


dear true love (you're the universe i'm helpless in)

by LeoTheAvengingLioness333



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Fluff, Maybe some angst, One-Shot Collection, because i fell down a rabbit hole and here i am, clint and laura in ch11, honestly who knows - Freeform, i also don't know why bucky wasn't listed as a character earlier, i honestly dont know, it was late when i wrote it, mostly romanogers though probably, other characters will show up, other pairings too probably, plus some minor civil war spoilers, send me prompts!, wanda and vision in ch14, wanda/bucky in ch16&17, what this summary is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4397534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoTheAvengingLioness333/pseuds/LeoTheAvengingLioness333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in love is hard. Being an Avenger is hard. Those two things together? Nearly impossible. Somehow they make it work.</p><p>Avengers drabble collection. Mostly Steve/Nat, but other pairings/characters too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Big Storm, A Little Leak

**Author's Note:**

> So, I should really be writing my 1940s AU for these two, but alas, that is going (A LOT) slower than I would like. I've been thinking about doing a drabble collection for these two anyway, and this is a good way to keep me writing when I can't quite write for my stories.
> 
> I won't update this regularly, but rather when I happen to write the drabbles/when I have time. So i could update three times a week or once every three months. Who knows. I apologize ahead of time for sporadic updates.
> 
> And even though this will mostly focus on Steve and Natasha, I'm open to other pairings as well, so definitely feel free to send in prompts! they can be other pairings, au prompts, family prompts, anything! So let me know what you guys want to read!
> 
> This first one is an au prompt I found somewhere on tumblr. I don't have a link, but the gist is that the two characters (Steve and Nat) are super flirty neighbors and then there's a leak and the power goes out and what happens next. 
> 
> Title taken from two Sleeping at Last songs: Dear True Love and Venus
> 
> I don't own anything!
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve, walking quickly, exited the elevator on the top floor of his building and headed towards his apartment. He’d forgotten his laptop bag when he’d headed out that morning for coffee and now had to rush back and get it otherwise he would be late to teach his first class that morning. Not that his students would mind that much, but still. He hadn’t anticipated how much longer his coffee would take with that stupid deal the café was having. He fumbled with his two cups of coffee as he reached his door and tried to reach in his pocket for his keys.

Steve turned when he heard the door to the apartment behind him open. His neighbor, Natasha, walked out and locked her door. Steve had seen her around enough that he knew her name, but that was about it. She was wearing a dark gray skirt suit with a plain white blouse, and he found himself wondering what job she was rushing off to.

“Uh, hey, Natasha, right?” he asked.

She looked up at him, mildly startled at first, before she realized who had spoken, and her features settled into an easy smile. “Yeah…Steve?”

He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”

“What’s up?” she asked, shouldering her purse.

“I was just wondering if you wanted this,” he said, holding out the second coffee to her.

She gave him a quizzical look. “Coffee? Why?”

“Well, there was a deal or something going on and I got a free coffee. I don’t need two and you were right there so…” he paused, watching her pretty face as she regarded him. “I didn’t spit in it or anything, if you’re worried about that.”

She laughed at that and shook her head. “No. no, it’s fine. Sure, I’ll take it,” she reached out her hand to take the coffee, “What kind is it?”

“Um,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his now free hand. “Some kind of latte? Or a mocha? I, um, yeah, I have no clue, sorry. I was in a hurry and asked for whatever and it was one of the ones with the funky names.”

Natasha laughed again, and he couldn’t help noticing that it was a beautiful sound. She tested the coffee. Seemingly satisfied, she smiled brightly at him. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ve gotta get going, I’m kind of in a hurry, but,” she gave him a quick once over, the corners of her mouth pulling up, “I’ll see you around, Steve.”

“See ya,” he echoed, but she was already heading off to the elevator, a little more sway in her hips than before.

-:-

“Hold the elevator!” a voice shouted.

Natasha shot out her hand to brace the elevator door as it started to close. Sensing an obstruction, the door started to reopen. A guy practically flung himself into the elevator and when she looked up she saw it was Steve. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture when she saw it was her in the elevator.

“Heading down?” she asked teasingly with a smirk.

He gave a breathy laugh. “Yes, please.”

She pressed the button. The doors closed and the elevator started to descend.

“Why in such a hurry this morning?” she asked.

“I, uh, forgot I was teaching an extra seminar this morning.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re a professor?” despite having bumped into Steve several times now, she still hadn’t bothered to ask what he did for a living.

“Yeah, I teach art at the community college,” he replied.

Somehow the fact that he taught art, of all things, impressed her even more. Especially given the fact that he looked like he could lift a car off a trapped child. She smiled a little. “Guess they’re wrong when they say you can’t be smart _and_ good looking.”

He looked at her and laughed. “Guess that makes me the exception, huh? And what do you do, Natasha?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a boring old government job. Trust me, you don’t want to hear about it.”

“Mm,” he hummed in disagreement. “I doubt anything about you could bore me.”

She cocked an eyebrow at them, and then struggled to keep a smile off her face, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Good to know,” she finally said, just as the elevator dinged. “See you later, _Professor_ Steve.”

Steve shouldered his bag and, with a warm smile, let her step off the elevator first, smiling to herself as she walked out of the building.

            -:-

They saw each other almost every day after that, whether it was coincidentally when they happened to do their laundry at the same time, or on purpose to grab their morning coffee together. And each encounter was as flirty as the others. It was really fun, and they quickly became friends as well as neighbors. And then Natasha found herself really, _really_ liking Steve. He talked to her about his classes and his students, showed her some of his own art, which she really loved seeing. She finally admitted that she was a defense attorney after enough nagging from him one night. Not everyone approved of lawyers, especially not defense ones, but Steve seemed to think that it was perfect, especially for someone as determined and caring as she was.

“And stubborn,” he’d added with a smirk, and she’d shoved him playfully for that.

 Then, one night at the end of June there was a terrible summer storm. Rain pounded down outside, accompanied by the crashing of thunder and the bright flashes of white lightning across the sky. Natasha hadn’t really thought much of it—in fact, she loved storms—until she was sitting in her bed reading and a drop of water suddenly splashed against her hand.

 She frowned and looked up, craning her neck back. Sure enough, another drop came down. And then another, and another.

“Well, shit,” she muttered.

She moved her blankets aside so they wouldn’t start getting too wet. She grabbed a large bowl from the kitchen and placed it under the leak. _At least it’s small,_ she thought. But it would get bigger and much worse if she didn’t do something about it. She called the landlord but ended up hanging up after a ten minute argument. She sighed, hands on her hips. She didn’t have the stuff to fix a leak, but she might know someone who did…

            -:-

Steve stopped sketching when there was a loud knock on his door.

“Just a minute!” he shouted loud enough for the person to hear while he went and washed the charcoal off his hands in the kitchen real quick.

He went to his door, and when he opened it, was only half surprised to see Natasha standing there, dressed casually in a black zip hoodie and red sleep shorts.

“Hey, do you know how to fix a leak?” she said by way of greeting.

“Uh, yeah,” he responded. “You have one?”

She nodded. “In my bedroom, yeah. I called the landlord and he said he’d call some guys to come and fix it, but they can’t get out here until tomorrow because of the storm.”

“Well, it’s no problem,” he reassured her with a smile. “Just let me grab my stuff and I’ll be right over.”

She grinned broadly. “You’re the best.”

Steve could only smile wide in response.

A few minutes later he was in her room, standing on her bed, inspecting the small leak in her ceiling. It would be an easy fix. And easy temporary one, that is, until the landlord’s guys came out and gave it a look.

He started working and Natasha sat on the floor, watching him work with a glass of wine in hand.

“Smart, hot, _and_ a handyman…” she mused and he chuckled. “Yup, way too good to be true.”

A few more minutes and Steve leaned back slightly, looking at his work.

“There,” Steve said, craning his neck back a little farther. “I think it’s—”

There was a flash of lightning outside, a groan, and then the power went out and the room was plunged into darkness.

“Fixed,” he finished, looking down in Natasha’s direction though he couldn’t see her, and steadied himself on the mattress.

It was silent for a moment before Natasha spoke, “I’ll get some candles.”

14 minutes and quite a bit of fumbling and swearing later, Natasha had lit a dozen little candles all around her room, as well as a few more in each room of the apartment so they weren’t tripping over their own feet in the blackness.

Steve climbed back onto Natasha’s bed and took another look at the leak he’d just patched up, testing the drywall patch under his fingers. He smiled a little to himself. It would definitely hold till tomorrow when the professionals could take a look at it.

“I think you’re set,” he said, glancing down at Natasha, who had set her wine down and now had her arms crossed worriedly over her chest.

“Really?”

“Yeah, come see,” Steve said, reaching down and grabbing her hand, helping to pull her into a standing position next to him on the bed. He put a hand on her arm to steady her. She smiled at him, their eyes meeting for a moment before she teared her gaze away to look at the patch on her ceiling. She prodded the patch, inspected the sides for any leakage.

When she was satisfied, she looked back at him, smirking a little at the fact that they were a mere millimeter apart. All the times they’d flirted, almost pressed the button at the same time in the elevator, all the times he’d thought about knocking on _her_ door to see if she was free on Friday, it all came rushing back to him and Steve was struck with the inexplicable desire to kiss Natasha Romanoff right then and there. It would be too easy. They were so, _so_ close. God, she was beautiful, and the soft candlelight was doing wonders for her. He could feel her body heat radiating off of her, smell the coconut and vanilla of her shampoo, the lilac of the lotion on her skin. Her green eyes gleamed in the dim light.

“So,” she whispered, a hint of wine on her breath, her smirk never fading, “you want some ice cream? I don’t know when the power will be back on…”

Steve nodded, the electricity in the air certainly not from the lightning and thunder charging across the sky outside. “It’d be a shame to waste it,” he agreed.

“A damn shame,” Natasha murmured, her voice only audible because Steve was standing right in front of her.

They just looked at each other; Steve’s mouth slightly parted, feeling completely grounded by her gaze despite the fact that they were still standing on her bed. Then Natasha leaned up and no space at all existed between them as her lips pressed, somewhat desperate, against his. They nearly toppled over as Steve wrapped his arms around her, and they had to take a moment, laughing, to lower themselves onto the bed from a standing position. Steve hovered over Natasha, kissed her again with a smile.

As their kisses deepened and clothes started dropping to the floor, Natasha smiled at him, her voice breathless as she spoke,

“I can always buy more ice cream.”


	2. Come Back to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this a while back, before Age of Ultron was out, and just hadn't posted it. Using Steve's broken shield again in this one. Also, this drabble is not happy or fluffy. Warning for character death. I apologize in advance, but I do love me some angst.
> 
> Remember to send me prompts to write!
> 
> Enjoy!

            The broken shield slipped form Natasha’s hands and clattered to the ground with a metallic ring. Then she was running, running towards where she’d spotted Steve. She ignored the pain of her injuries, moving as fast as she could with her wounded leg. Limping her way across the debris covered road, she finally reached him, falling to her knees beside him.

            He was covered in more blood and cuts and bruises than she cared to count. Swallowing down her fear and doubts, she put a hand to his shoulder and gently shook him.

            “Steve,” she whispered, not capable of getting her voice any higher. “Steve.”

            He didn’t move.

            She looked at his chest and could see no visible proof that he was breathing. A lump formed in her throat. With a shaking hand Natasha reached out and put two fingers to his neck. She counted to ten….then twenty…then she reached a minute and she still couldn’t feel the thrum of blood underneath her skin.

            “Steve?” she said, panicked.

            She drew her hand back and then checked his pulse again, watching, feeling for his breath. Still nothing after another minute of hovering over him. “Steve,” she shouted urgently as she shook him a little harder. Still no response. Digging past the mounting fear in her brain, she sought out her training, the logic she knew how to use in this kind of situation. She rose up a little higher on her knees, positioning herself to start CPR. As she pumped her hands against his unmoving chest, blood welled up between her fingers, though what injury the blood was coming from, she had no clue.

            “Come on, Steve,” she whispered, over and over, like a mantra, trying to keep her voice steady as his blood coated her fingers. “Come on, Steve. Steve. Come on, dammit!”

            Thirty compressions, two breaths. Thirty compressions, two breaths. Her hands were covered in scarlet. Bloody and red and still moving against his chest. Thirty compressions, two breaths. She repeated this for a few minutes before checking his pulse and breathing again. Still nothing. What little hope she had left was quickly dissipating. She could feel tears burning, starting to blur the edges of her vision. A few more rounds of failed CPR later and her bloody hands stilled against his chest. She slumped further against the ground, a hand going up to cover her mouth, to keep the sob she could feel building from escaping.  

            Natasha reached out to touch the pale skin of his cheek, ran a red hand through his already bloodied blonde hair. She shook his shoulder again, but there was no response. She knew there wouldn’t be.

            “Steve!” she cried out, tears burning in her eyes, threaten to overflow. “Don’t do this to me! Come back! Come back, Steve!”

            She moved, pulling his head into her lap, fingers fumbling over his lifeless body. She looked around her, at the smoke and the fires burning away. She could hear the distant sound of the dying metallic army, accompanied by the screams of civilians caught in the crossfire. She could hear the sound of Ultron snapping Steve’s shield like it were nothing more than a cheap plastic toy, then tossing the soldier to the ground, all while she ran, too slow, to join the fight that she hadn’t realized Steve had already lost.

            “Steve, come back,” she whispered, her voice breaking, echoing the sound of her heart fracturing inside her chest. There was no way, _no way_ that Steve was just _gone._  “Come back, come back….Steve, please. Come back. Please. _Please,_ Steve. Come back…”

            The others found her like that, after the war with Ultron was over ( _they say we won, they didn’t say what we lost_ ), whispering the same things over and over, curled around Steve, her body a shield of a different kind.


	3. Jealousy (Natasha style)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Romanogers22 (FF.net): jealous Natasha 
> 
> I set this after the events of Age of Ultron.
> 
> Thanks for all the support so far on this story! Don't forget to leave prompts for me to write! Any prompts you want! 
> 
> Enjoy!

            Natasha wasn’t _jealous._ She didn’t _get_ jealous. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself as she stood on the side and watched Steve help out a particularly pretty blonde recruit. And of course the girl was practically drooling over the fact that Captain America was helping her with her stance in order to shoot better.

            Natasha tried to busy herself with some of the other recruits, walking up and down the stalls of the firing range at the new Avengers facility, but she could still see Steve and the girl—Natasha was pretty sure her name was Melanie—out of the corner of her eye. She clenched her jaw in order to keep herself from screaming out in frustration.

            She’d never felt like this. Then again, she’d never felt this way about anyone before Steve came into her life. Not even about Bruce, who she’d briefly given her heart to all those months ago now, before he disappeared without so much as a text to say he was okay. Then again, this was _Steve_ they were talking about. He was impossible not to like, and what she felt for him went so far beyond _like_ that it was nearly impossible to keep her own little green monster at bay.

            She shook her head. This was so irrational. It’s not like Steve was _hers._ But she wanted him to be. And god, not even under the worst torture would she reveal that to anyone, but she knew in her heart that it was true. After D.C. and after spending the following year with hardly seeing him at all before they met up again with the other Avengers, she’d realized that she and Steve had quickly gone from partners to friends to something utterly and indescribably more. She didn’t even know what exactly that _more_ was for them, she only knew that she was about ready to go teach Melanie how to shoot, and use _her_ as the target.

            “Everything okay?” Sam asked, coming up beside her. Since he and Rhodey were just as good of shots as her and Steve, Steve had asked them to come help with the trainees today. Natasha was glad for the company, because she was pretty sure she was about to punch Steve for being so blissfully ignorant that Melanie was about two seconds from lip-locking with him and shoving him into the nearest broom closet to have her way with him.

            “Fine,” she muttered finally, nearly struggling to tear her gaze away from Steve and Melanie.

            Sam quickly looked to where her gaze had been, and then back to her and gave her a disbelieving smile. “You sure?”

            She glowered at him. “Oh, absolutely, I’m just _peachy._ ”

            Sam knew her well enough by now that the harshness of her tone meant nothing and he chuckled. “Whatever you say, Natasha. I’ll just have to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t corner Melanie in some dark hallway.”

            She frowned. “I’m not—”

            “Jealous?” Sam interrupted, then gave her another smile. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” His voice was teasing, but also soft, understanding. He gave her a last look, and then went over to Wanda, who was learning to shoot as well.

            She turned to see that Steve had moved on to another trainee, but a bitter taste still sprung in her mouth when she looked at Melanie, and without a word, Natasha left the shooting range.

-:-

            Later that week the new recruits joined Natasha, Steve, and Sam in the gym for sparring. Wanda, who was also participating, stood by Natasha, nervously picking at the hem of her light workout sweatshirt.

            “You’ll do fine,” Natasha reassured her as Steve announced what they were to be doing.

            Wanda gave her a grateful look and turned her attention back to Steve, Natasha following suit.

            “Agent Romanoff and I will show you a few basic moves to start with, and then you’ll take turns sparring with myself, Agent Romanoff, or Sam,” Steve finished, his Captain America voice resounding loudly over the gym.

            The recruits nodded with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. More so excitement to begin with since they would first be watching her and Steve spar. As if he could read her thoughts, Steve turned to her, eyes alight with eagerness. Natasha’s heart practically ached with how damn attractive he looked in his workout gear.

            “You ready?” he asked.

            “Are you?” she shot back immediately, which earned a few ‘ooh’s and laughs from the crowd of trainees.

            Steve just grinned broadly and took up his stance on one of the mats. Once they started, it was as easy as riding a bike. They knew each other’s fighting styles like their own, and even if they hadn’t planned what they were going to do beforehand, she and Steve had come up with their own secret language, communicating with the flash of limbs and movement of their bodies. They showed the moves in slow motion, then a little faster, taking turns with who got the demonstrative upper hand. Natasha knew that if they were actually sparring, she and Steve could probably go on for hours without a clear winner, they were just that evenly matched.

            When they finished their demonstration, the recruits looked at them appreciatively, a mixture of awe and more nervousness on their faces.

            Natasha hated it, but she looked at Melanie, whose entire attention was a Steve’s not lightly sweat-sheened body. Natasha forced herself to keep her features schooled. She was supposed to be calm and collected, Black Widow. Not some little school girl who was getting all possessive over her crush.

            It was easy to distract herself for a minute as they broke off into groups. She, Steve, and Sam each took a recruit to start with, and the rest paired off and waited for their turn with the Avengers. They finished with their first recruits and as they picked their next people, Steve asked Melanie over. Natasha just about screamed. _Stupid stupid stupid,_ she thought to herself. This whole thing was stupid. Melanie, Steve, her being jealous. It was all completely ridiculous. And yet, she couldn’t keep her irrational anger from bubbling up, or from her face pulling down into a frown. She gathered herself enough to pick another student to spar with, but she still completely ignore the fact that several feet away, Steve was sparring with Melanie, helping her every time she messed up, moving her body for her in order to do it better.

            Natasha barely noticed that in her blind jealousy, she had already pinned her own student down until he was frantically tapping out on the mat.

            “Sorry,” she blurted, taking her knee off his throat and helping him stand.

            “It’s okay,” the trainee—Josh—gasped. Once he got his breath back, he actually grinned. “Can you show me how to do that?”

            Natasha didn’t even have time to respond before they were switching again. A different recruit was about to volunteer to go with her, but Natasha quickly grabbed Melanie.

            “Why don’t you spar with me?” Natasha said quickly, guiding the girl to her spot on the mats before she even had time to respond.

            “I just went, Agent Romanoff,” Melanie said respectfully.

            “That’s all right. You can go again now, if you’re not too tired,” Natasha said, and Melanie lifted her chin higher, taking Natasha’s words as a challenge. _Good,_ Natasha thought as she lowered herself into position.

            Once they started, Melanie barely hesitated before lunging out, and Natasha quickly (too easily) grabbed the girl’s arm, twisted it behind her, and then used the momentum to flip her onto the mat. Melanie gasped, the air momentarily knocked out of her lungs, and for a second (half a second, really) Natasha felt bad. But then she remembered Melanie’s flirtatious smiles and wandering hands as she’d worked with Steve, and all guilt Natasha felt quickly disappeared.

            “You’re too eager,” Natasha said, helping Melanie stand. “You have to have patience, and try to anticipate what your opponent will do once you attack.”

            Melanie nodded, looking more determined than ever, and Natasha at least had to give her credit for trying hard.

            They did it again. Then another time. And then one more time. Each round ending with Melanie on her back. The last time she landed a little rougher, and Natasha was sure she would have a bruise.

            “Nice job, keep working at it,” Natasha said as they switched and Melanie walked away to go take a break.

            Now that Melanie was gone, Natasha’s heated jealousy abruptly vanished, and her guilt at taking her jealousy out on the trainee kicked in.

             It was only made worse when she looked over at Steve briefly and saw him watching her, before turning his gaze in Melanie’s direction, concern in his eyes.

-:-

            “You were awfully hard on Melanie today,” Steve noted as they walked to the locker rooms later that evening after training was over.

            “I don’t want to talk about it,” Natasha said shortly. She felt bad enough as it was; she didn’t need Steve lecturing her on top of it.

            “That’s fine,” Steve said in a voice that Natasha knew meant he wouldn’t let it drop that easy. “I just think that maybe you hard on her for a different reason. Maybe because you were…jealous?”

            Natasha stopped in her tracks and glared at him, her anger flaring up a little bit. “All right, what did Sam say to you?” she demanded.

            Steve shrugged, trying not to smile. “Sam didn’t have to say anything. I’m not stupid, Natasha. Or blind for that matter. You’ve been watching me and Melanie like a hawk ever since we started training this group. It only got worse the last two weeks here. So, I decided to make it a little more fun. I just paid her a little more attention than I already was, and well, it worked.”

            Natasha stared at him for a minute, trying to process his words. It took repeating his words in her head a few times for her to get it. To understand that Steve had known she was jealous, and decided to mess with her by paying extra attention to Melanie.

            Natasha struck her fist out at his shoulder. The blow probably would’ve caused any normal person to stumble back a few feet, but Steve only swayed a little.

            “You ass!” she cried, trying her hardest to glare at him as he just laughed. “I can’t believe you did that!”

            Steve just continued to laugh, and she shook her head at him. “Bastard,” she muttered, even though she could quickly feel a smile trying to force the corners of her mouth up. “Steve Rogers, I can’t believe…you…” Natasha ended her sentence by groaning in frustration and heading towards the locker room again.

            Steve quickly caught up to her and grabbed her before she touch the door handle.

            “I’m sorry, okay?” he said, though he was still smiling, slightly breathless, lips parted.

            “I thought…I don’t know,” Natasha said, her anger dissipating quickly. “You just acted so oblivious.”

            “Yeah, because everyone thinks I am,” he pointed out. “Especially when it comes to women. And in this case, it worked in my favor. I mean these last couple days you were practically _green_ with envy. I mean, Nat, come on, Melanie? You were jealous of her? Have you seen you?”

             Natasha just gave him a look, but also couldn’t help the fluttering of her heart as he smiled fondly at her, the foot of space between them suddenly very big and very small at the same time.

            “I know, okay, it was stupid to get so jealous,” Natasha told him. “And I acted like a child, I just don’t really like you paying anyone else attention I guess, and that’s ridiculous because you’re not mine in the first place but—”

            “Just kiss me already.”

            He didn’t have to tell her twice. The space between them suddenly became nonexistent as Natasha stepped towards him and leaned up till their mouths met. They were both breathless in seconds, his lips soft and warm, but demanding against her own, so much more skilled against her mouth than then had been over a year ago on that escalator. Steve wrapped his arms around her, almost lifting her up as he backed her up till she bumped against the wall next to the men’s locker room.

            Suddenly a shower sounded like the best idea in the world. Especially since the stalls were big enough for two.

           


	4. Jealousy (Steve Style)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support so far! It means a lot!
> 
> Prompt for Yvonne (ao3) and City.of.sour.wolf.runners (FF) : Jealous Steve
> 
> This one is a continuation of last chapter, which featured jealous Natasha.
> 
> Hope you guys like it! Enjoy!

Steve and Natasha had been together for eight months now, and Steve was (foolishly) beginning to think that he was incapable of getting jealous. Ever since that fateful night after Natasha’s own bout of jealousy over a recruit (that had almost, _almost_ ended in them christening one of the locker room showers) he and Natasha had been nearly inseparable. They saw each other all the time anyway, and being together just made it more fun. The sideways glances, the teasing smirks, the small touches when no one was looking. Or at least, when they _thought_ no one was looking because Sam and Wanda and the rest of their Avengers teams all caught on pretty quickly. And then of course Tony found out and nearly gave them up to the entire new Avengers base. Clint had simply muttered “about time” when Natasha told him and then hung up the phone because he had a rambunctious almost one-year old Nathaniel to worry about.

But not once since then had Steve felt horribly jealous. Even though a lot of the new recruits grew to have crushes on Natasha, not only did Steve intimidate them enough that they didn’t try anything, but so did Natasha. They’d seen her spar, seen her take down trainees with just a flick of her wrist and choke them out until they tapped out on the mat, and knew that she was not to be messed with.

And yet, despite his (their) good luck so far, Steve, in the back of his mind, knew it was only a matter of time until a situation turned him into the little green monster that Natasha had been all those months ago.

And when the time came (in the form of a mission during a cool evening at the end of May) Steve couldn’t help but think about how absolutely ridiculous it was that he was _jealous._ Captain America was known for being a leader, calm and collected, able to handle any situation that came his way. And yet, he couldn’t handle Natasha (fake) flirting on a mission with some sleaze named Duke who was selling weapons and supplies to small Hydra factions. They’d been tasked to get as much information about his suppliers as well as his Hydra customers before handing him in.

“This isn’t the kind of guy we can just interrogate in some back alley,” Natasha had told Steve when they’d been given the folder on Duke. “If we did that, he’d want to make a deal. And no doubt an expensive one at that. We’ll have to get the information a little more covertly.”

“What did you have in mind?” Steve had asked her.

She shrugged and gave him a look, tilting her body a little towards him as she did so. It had taken a moment for the pieces to click into place, and when they did, his immediate answer had been no. They’d argued, and even though Steve knew she was good at what she did ( _insanely_ good) he still didn’t like the idea of her seducing Duke to get the information. Especially if he was as dangerous and greedy as his profile made him about to be.

Finally, under Natasha’s continuous insistence, he’d given in. It didn’t mean he had to like it though. Deep down, he knew that it was the best plan, but his little seed of jealousy had started to grow anyway, despite all of Natasha’s reassurances that it was just another mission, and that he had to know it meant nothing.

“He’s got nothing on Captain America,” she’d whispered before kissing his cheek, right before she’d gone into the bar/motel Duke was in.

Steve waited with Sam (who had offered to come in order to make Steve look less conspicuous) for thirty minutes. Steve didn’t really like the idea of waiting so long to go in after Natasha, but knew it was for the best. When they did go in, Steve immediately spotted Natasha at the bar, gorgeous in her little black dress and heels that could probably kill a man. Natasha was seated next to Duke, who looked absolutely infatuated with her already. Though, Steve knew from firsthand experience that it was hard not to be.

Steve and Sam made their way over to a little booth in the back corner and ordered drinks right away in an effort to blend in more. They made small talk as they listened to Natasha as best they could, Steve keeping an eye on her out the corner of his eye the entire time. They hadn’t used comms because Natasha didn’t want to risk Duke seeing it, so Steve was grateful for his enhanced hearing and that he was able to pick up at least some of what she and Duke were saying. Most of her conversation with Duke was pretty boring, but she was using that low, seductive voice of hers, batting her eyelashes, touching his wrist every now and again, and Duke was eating up her every word. But he still had that dangerous, nearly possessive gleam in his eyes, and it made Steve clench his hand around his beer bottle a little too tightly.

“Hey, man,” Sam said quietly, noticing how tense Steve was getting. “Calm down. It’s fine. She’s just doing this to get information out of him. That’s all.”

Steve took a few deep breaths, released his hand from around his beer before he broke the bottle accidentally. “I know,” he sighed finally. “I know. It’s stupid, I just can’t help it.”

He was trying to keep it under control, honestly. But just looking at Duke, with his slicked black hair, pointed nose, greedy smile, the way his hand on Natasha’s thigh kept creeping higher and higher—it made him sick. And angry. _Breathe,_ he reminded himself. _Just breathe. It’s just a mission. Just a mission. Just need to get some information, then you can arrest him. Just—_

“How ‘bout you and I take this upstairs?” Steve heard Duke say suddenly, and though the words weren’t incredibly loud, Steve was so tuned in that he heard them as loud and clear as if Duke had shouted them. “I’ve got a room booked upstairs for the night.”

He looked over at the bar, hardly discreet at all, as Natasha smiled broadly and offered Duke her hand. “Lead the way,” she told him. The pair stood and Steve tracked her movements. Just when he thought Natasha would disappear up the back stairs without giving him a sign of any kind, she gave him a brief look over her shoulder, and a few discreet hand signals. Then she was gone, out of his view. But he’d gotten the message. Wait five minutes, then follow.

Steve did just that, bringing Sam to use as a cover story as to why he was upstairs.

When they walked into the hallway, Steve’s gaze zeroed in on Duke, who had Natasha pinned to the wall outside one of the motel rooms. Their mouths were locked, Natasha’s hands in Duke’s hair. Steve was suddenly very glad for Sam, who gently pressed a hand to his arm. Steve was pretty sure that if Sam hadn’t been there, any self-control he had would’ve snapped and Steve would be the one pinning Duke to the wall, in a not-so-nice way.

Sam stopped them at a motel door a little ways down from Natasha and Duke. “Hey, man,” Sam said, patting his pockets, loud enough for Duke to hear. “I think I forgot my key downstairs. I’ll be right back, then I can get you what you need.”

Steve had to force himself to look at Sam and play along for the moment. Sam went back down the stairs and waited for Steve to give him a signal. For his part, Steve dug out his phone and tried to look very interested and he scrolled through it aimlessly, leaning as casually as he could against the room he and Sam had picked for their cover.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Duke finally seem to notice him.

“Let’s move this into my room,” Duke murmured, but loud enough that Steve could hear.

Steve lifted his head once Duke’s frame was inside his room, and Natasha gave him a brief look. Despite his anger and the bitter taste in his mouth, the look she gave him soothed him somewhat, and reminded him that she had this handled. He gave her the tiniest nod just before she disappeared in the room as well and the door shut behind her and Duke.

Steve took a few deep breaths before signaling down to Sam that it was safe to come back up. Sam kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye as they waited for Natasha to give them a signal or sign of any kind.

“I’m fine,” Steve reassured his friend.

“Mmhmm,” Sam grunted disbelievingly. “Sure, and I’m the president. Steve, you’re practically green you’re so jealous.”

Steve huffed out a frustrated breath, but didn’t argue because he knew Sam was right.

He would’ve said more, but there was a loud bang from Duke’s room. Steve was at the door to Duke’s room in a second. He had a hunch that had been the signal, but he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure. Bursting in their could jeopardize the whole mission, but a tiny part of him didn’t care because that still jealous part of him didn’t want Natasha spending one more second with that creep.

Steve kicked the door in and immediately saw that his hunch had been right. Duke was half-naked, on the bed, lying on his stomach, Natasha with her knee digging into his back as she handcuffed him.

“Stop squirming,” she muttered, irritated, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

Duke, upon seeing Steve and Sam burst into the room, groaned and probably said some pretty nasty things, but Natasha had gagged him with one of his own socks and it all came out as nothing more than noise.

“You good?” Steve asked her.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, giving him a little smile that banished away any jealousy and made his heart stutter in his chest. “Got the intel we needed. The second the bastard reached his hand a little far up my skirt was the second I face-planted him against the headboard. Squirmy little asshole, though. Hence the sock in his mouth.”

There was a pause, and then Sam laughed, Steve joining in a second later.

-:-

Later that night, once Natasha had showered all the Duke off of her, she climbed into bed next to Steve and he immediately wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her to him. He kissed her soundly on the mouth, tangling a hand in her damp hair.

When they pulled apart, she gave him a look.

“What was that for?” she asked softly.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Just because.”

She could see right through him, though. She ran a hand through his hair, rested her other hand against his bare chest, right over his heart. “You know that all of that tonight meant nothing, right?” she said.

“I know,” he sighed. “And I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.”

“And jealous?” she added with a smirk.

“Yeah. I just, you haven’t had to do that…seduce a suspect since we’ve been together and I just…I got a little out of control.”

“And I’m not mad at you for that,” she told him, giving him a quick kiss. “It’s kind of nice that you’re all ready to fight and defend my honor.” She smiled and he laughed. “I also appreciate you knowing that I can handle myself though, too.”

He gave her a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Or…touch you?”

“No,” she said softly, but firmly, taking one of his hands into her own. “He never got that far.”

“Yeah, but—”

She shut him up with a kiss.

It was effective and quickly made Steve forget about all of his worries. He rolled onto his back, dragging her with him so she was straddling his hips, her hands on either side of his face, his hands running up and down her thighs, fingers brushing against the edge of her (very lacy and very silky) nightgown.

Natasha pulled back enough so she could look him in the eyes. “I never thought I would say this,” she admitted, a little breathless. “But you have my heart, Steve Rogers. Just you. No one else. Got it?”

In that moment, he couldn’t remember why he would think anything else.

“Yes, ma’am.”

 


	5. Welcome to Jurassic World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a prompt given to me, but I will get back to those after this chapter. This is basically just a Jurassic World AU I had to write, that maybe actually could've been done a little better, but this is kinda just what popped out on paper so yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!

“I can’t believe you brought your shield with you,” Natasha said with a smirk, giving Steve a pointed look.

Steve shrugged, meeting her gaze. “You never know.”

“What? Think you’re going to need to shield yourself from some dinosaurs?” she joked, turning and leaning over the rail of the boat, the ocean spray salty and refreshing.

He grinned. “Maybe. Like I said, you never know. And you and I both know how well the first park worked out, so it doesn’t hurt to have extra protection.”

“I guess you’re right,” Natasha said, looking over at Clint’s two oldest kids, who were leaning against the rail a few feet away. “I just still can’t believe Clint and Laura let us take Cooper and Lila. I mean this park is safer, but still.”

“Well, when you’re friends with a billionaire who’s willing to pay for all expenses…” Steve pointed out, trailing off and allowing Natasha to fill in the blanks.

Natasha smiled. “Fair enough.” She smirked at him again, eyeing the huge, round, not-at-all inconspicuous shield bag he had slung over his shoulders. “You’re just lucky all the people on this boat are more excited about the dinosaurs than they are about having two Avengers on board.”

Steve laughed at that, still glad for the familiar weight of his shield on his back.

-:-

It was nearly impossible to believe that just over an hour ago Natasha, Steve, and Cooper and Lila had been waiting for the gyrosphere ride. She and Steve had let the kids go first, only to have the ride shut down. _All_ the rides shut down. And she and Steve had worriedly waited. And waited. And _waited._ The kids still hadn’t come back, and no park officials had been too intent on helping them right away. Not until they ran into a man named Owen Grady and his colleague Claire, who were pretty much in the same boat they were, looking for Claire’s nephews as well. And once Steve showed them his shield, they were even more eager to help the two Avengers.

They’d found Cooper and Lila out in the valley, where they’d gotten turned around in the stupid hamster ball ride and hadn’t been able to find their way back to the main part of the park. But as badly as she wanted to keep Cooper and Lila safe and escort them straight back to the park, Natasha felt bad about leaving Owen and Claire to find her two nephews on their own. So they waited for Owen’s friend Barry to come pick up Lila and Cooper and take them to safety.

Then they’d gone in search of Zach and Gray.

Once they’d tracked them to the old part of the park, Natasha had looked with Steve inside the old building while Owen and Claire searched the direct perimeter of the structure.

And it had been quiet until the hybrid dinosaur’s giant footsteps had echoed around them, shaking the earth upon its arrival.

She and Steve ducked behind an old Jeep, hardly daring to breathe as the beast stuck half its body in the garage.

Natasha had faced down ruthless Russian mobsters, an army of Chitauri, assassins with metal arms, and a giant robot intent on killing the entire planet. Yet, none of her training and no weapon nor Steve’s shield could stand up against a 50 foot dinosaur with teeth nearly the size of her arm.

Steve was gently pressed to her side, grip tight on his shield. She was suddenly very glad that he’d brought it. Not that it would do much against a dinosaur that big, but it was a small comfort nonetheless. Sweat dripped down her face, stuck her hair to her face. She couldn’t even close her eyes, for fear that when she opened them she would be facing down that thing’s wide-open maw, rows and rows of teeth ready to swallow her whole. Natasha had thought the Hulk had scared her, when it had torn through the Helicarrier, chasing her down, before nearly crushing all the bones in her body. But this was so much worse. Every nerve in her tingled with an unfamiliar _terror_ and she _hated it._ Steve seemed to understand as he laid a hand gently on her arm, his own fingers trembling slightly.

Finally, the thing left and she released the breath she’d been holding so desperately inside.

Seconds later, though, it was bursting inside, chunks of ceiling and dust and foliage raining down on them. She and Steve raced outside, nearly colliding with Owen and Claire as they followed the dino as it chased the distant sound of a helicopter.

-:-

Steve was really, _really_ glad he’d brought his shield.

Because, naturally, the shit hit the fan and it was just their luck that the day they went to Jurassic World is the day that the dinosaurs decided not to stay in their cages anymore.

And apparently vibranium didn’t just withstand bullets and magic Asgardian hammers and arc reactor blasts, but razor sharp dinosaur teeth as well. Even being Captain America, there wasn’t much he could do against dinosaurs, especially giant ones that were set on eating every living thing on the island. It’s not like he could just punch it and be through with it. So he was grateful for the weight of the metal disc on his arm.

“Good thing I brought this, huh?” he teased Natasha after some flying dinosaur (a dimorphodon Lila later told him, her enthusiasm for dinosaurs not having gone down even after that day’s events) attacked him. He still got scratches on his arms from the thing’s claws, but thanks to his shield on his back and Natasha reacting quickly and grabbing a tranquilizer gun he was a lot less hurt than he would have been.

Natasha had just shaken her head and rolled her eyes a little at his comment, but a smile had started to grow on her face anyway.

Claire’s nephew Gray thought the shield was pretty cool. Thought the fact that Captain America and Black Widow had helped saved him was even cooler.

-:-

Natasha was exhausted. She was leaning against Steve, her head on his shoulder as she held little Lila’s hand. They were seated a few feet away from Claire and her nephews, Cooper and Lila seated on the floor right in front of them, a thick blanket around their slightly dusty and sunburned shoulders. They’d all gotten off the island safely, after she and Steve had helped Owen and Claire with their dinosaur problem, and then reunited with Cooper and Lila on the last ferry for the mainland.

Natasha felt bad for not helping the EMTs with checking in on all the civilians and making sure water and granola bars were passed out, but after running from man-eating dinosaurs all day and night, she really didn’t have the energy. Even Steve was tired. They were both dirty, clothes caked with dried mud and blood, bodies full of scratches and scrapes and cuts. Steve’s shield was slung across his back, but no one paid him any attention.

When Natasha looked down at the kids’, she saw that Lila was about to fall asleep, her hand nearly slipping from Natasha’s. Cooper was holding his sister’s other hand in his, his own eyes looking heavy, but he kept them open. Steve squeezed the boy’s shoulder, and Cooper gave him a quick, grateful look and a tired smile.

Then Steve looked at her, and Natasha shifted her head on his shoulder so she could more easily look at him. Barely looking, he reached for the hand that wasn’t holding Lila’s and gave it a squeeze. Natasha smiled at him, his touch reassuring her, comforting her. Despite the situation and what they’d just gone through, she felt completely at ease, Steve’s presence a balm for all her worries. His blue eyes locked on hers and she had the sudden urge to wipe the dirt off his face and then curl further into his side.

She lifted her head when she heard Claire speak, saw the red-head get her nephews up as their parents came over. As they reunited, Natasha smiled. After getting nearly eaten several times, Natasha had a strong admiration for Claire and her two nephews, as well as Owen, who Steve had already exchanged numbers with. In the end, Natasha was happy they were all safe, especially as Claire gave her and Steve a parting look and a smile, before she headed over to Owen.

Natasha was about to ready to give up and take a nap for a bit, she heard her name.

“Nat,” Clint said as he approached, alone, and she figured Laura was home with Nathaniel.

She was up immediately, urging the kids up as well, similar to what Claire had done just moments before. The kids had their arms wrapped around their dad’s waist in seconds, clinging onto him desperately.

“Clint,” she started, everything that had happened that day bubbling up to the surface and sucker-punching her. If Steve hadn’t been right behind her, hand on the small of her back, she probably would’ve lost it. “I’m so, so sorry—”

“Hey, hey,” Clint said, prying hi kids off for a moment so he could step forward and hug her tightly. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you’re safe.” He pulled back, and tugged the kids against his side. “I’m glad you’re _all_ safe.”

Natasha smiled, feeling Steve step up behind her again.

“What do you say we all get out of here, huh?” Clint said, smiling broadly at his kids. “Uncle Tony’s got a jet waiting for us. We’ll be home in just a few hours.”

Cooper and Lila smiled, each of the taking one of their dad’s hands. Natasha didn’t even think about it before slipping her own hand into Steve’s, intertwining their fingers. He looked surprised for just a moment, before squeezing her hand just a little tighter, and walking with her as they followed Clint out to the airstrip.

“By the way,” she whispered, so only Steve could hear, “I _am_ glad you brought your shield.”

 

           


	6. Not a Virgin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Just finished my first week of school so I've been pretty busy the last few weeks. Honestly, it's late and I probably didn't proofread that well. Also, I think Tony is a tad out of character, but like I said, it's late. and this one just kind of spewed out on paper. 
> 
> Prompt from Sportsfan64 (FF): Steve is not a virgin. Tony asks him to prove it. Natasha gets involved. (the prompt was longer, but this is the gist of it)
> 
> Enjoy! And don't forget to give me your prompts! And if you guys are itching for any other pairing or want a specific character, let me know! Just because it's mostly Steve and Natasha, doesn't mean it has to ALL be Steve and Natasha.

 “ _You?_ ” Tony scoffed at Steve, taking another swig of his drunk. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve just shrugged, leaning back into the couch. They were seated in the back corner of a club, the area circled with soft, velvet couches, midnight blue in color. Heavy curtains half blocked their view of the dance floor and the bar beyond. Though the music blared, the Avengers were having no problem carrying on a conversation. About Steve’s virginity (or lack thereof) no less.

“Really, Stark?” Natasha raised an eyebrow at the genius, crossing her legs, causing the toe of her heel to brush against Steve’s leg. He tried not to think about that too much. Especially when all the Avengers eyes were on him anyway. “Is it that hard to believe that our good Captain here isn’t as _good_ as he seems?”

Tony just gave her a look, but Natasha stared him down, her mouth twisting up into a devious smile. Steve stifled his own smile, nudging his leg a fraction of an inch against her foot in a silent thank you for standing up for him.

“Whatever,” Tony finally relented. “I still say he’s a virgin.”

“You been spying on him or something?” Clint chuckled. “I knew you were into many things, Stark, but voyeurism was not one of them.”

Tony, like the child he was, threw one of the throw pillows at him. Clint caught it, but nearly toppled off the back of the couch where he was perched in the process.

“ _No_ , Barton, I haven’t been spying. I just haven’t seen any hard proof, that’s all.”

They all stared at him for a moment, until Tony realized that his wording hadn’t been the best.

Exasperated, Tony sighed and threw back the rest of his drink. “I _meant_ that I haven’t seen Cap’s skills with the ladies. If you’re not some blushing virgin, then prove it.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow at him. “How?”

“Go dance with one of those girls out there,” Tony challenged. “I pick the girl and I don’t want to see any waltzing old man. I mean _dancing,_ old man _._ Down and dirty. Like fucking—”

“Okay, Tony, we get it,” Bruce cut his fellow scientist off.

Steve shrugged. “Fine. Pick someone.”

Tony blanched for a moment, before picking up the bottle of vodka he’d bought them all and pouring more into his glass. “Wow, Cap. Didn’t actually think you’d agree.”

“You want proof, I’ll give you proof.”

The Avengers, though they weren’t as vocal in the matter, seemed just as curious. Thor wasn’t here, but Steve was sure that if the Asgardian were, he’d be beaming at the challenge, clapping Steve’s back in encouragement.

Natasha was the only one who seemed less curious and more amused. She smirked at him as he turned back to Tony.

“Pick a girl.”

“You’re sure?” Tony asked. “I don’t want you to get embarrassed or anything. Your joints aren’t going to lock up on you, are they?”

Steve just shook his head and chuckled. “No! Now pick someone, or I’m gonna start to think that _you_ don’t want me to do it.”

Tony just muttered under his breath and stood, walking to the edge of their circle of couches (the slightest unstably, which was no surprise given how much he’d drunken already) and peered out into the crowd. Steve joined him, scanning, waiting for Tony to pick some drunk girl out of the mass of writhing bodies out on the dance floor.

“Her!” Tony shouted over the music, louder now that they weren’t tucked away in their corner.

Steve followed his gaze to a blonde out on the dance floor. She was wearing a black cropped tank top and cut-off jean shorts. Her eye make-up was heavy, but the rest was fairly neutral. Steve supposed she was pretty. He admired the way her body moved the most, his artist’s brain taking note of the sway of her hips, the movement of her arms, the way she ran her hands through her hair every once in a while, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Well, go get her tiger!” Tony gave him a little nudge. “Remember, I want you practically ripping her clothes off!”

Steve rolled his eyes, but headed out onto the dance floor anyway. If this got Tony to stop bugging him about his sexual habits, then so be it.

He was halfway to the girl, keeping his eyes on her so as not to lose her in the crowd. When he had almost reached her, she locked eyes with him and smiled broadly, hooking her finger in the air to beckon him towards her. He felt the tiniest twinge of doubt. He wanted Tony off his back, but he didn’t normally do this. He wasn’t lying to Tony, about being a virgin, but unless he described in very vivid detail that night, Tony was going to be relentless.

“Dance with me!” the girl shouted over the music once he was close enough.

Steve didn’t say anything, didn’t think too much about it, but grabbed onto her waist and started to move.

He wasn’t great at dancing. Peggy had never gotten the chance to teach him. But Natasha bugged him every now and then, and would sometimes show him a step or two. He was also very observant. They came to this club pretty often and sometimes he would just people watch, then imagine himself moving with the fluidity and looseness they did.

“I’m Brenda!” the girl shouted.

“Steve,” he said back, equally loud.

Brenda just grinned and tugged him closer, her eyes appreciatively running up and down his jean clad legs and the shirt that snugly fit his torso.

Steve lost himself in the music, the music he was still getting used to but kind of liked. He let Brenda lead for the most part, but didn’t stop himself from gripping her waist a little tighter, from bringing his now sweat-sheened body a little closer.

Brenda twisted around in his arms so her backside was against him, pressing against him, her hips moving in a dance of their own.

“May I have this dance?” a voice interrupted the haze around Steve, snapping him to attention.

He looked over to see Natasha giving Brenda a pointed look. Brenda looked like she was going to argue, but the tiniest shift in Natasha’s face made her features go from firm politeness, to unquestionably threatening. Brenda pulled herself from Steve’s grasp, gave him one last smile and wink, before heading off into the crowd to grind against some other guy.

Steve cocked an eyebrow at Natasha. “What the hell, Nat—?”

“Oh, cool your jets,” Natasha said, getting in closer, taking his hands on setting them on her waist. “I was saving you from Barbie over there.”

“And as much as I appreciate that,” Steve said, not at all embarrassed to admit that to her, because, though he’d been playing along, he hadn’t been particularly enjoying himself, “is there a reason you butted in?”

“Like I said, I would call it saving you, not really butting in…” Natasha trailed off.

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, taking note of how his hands were on Natasha’s hips and hers were wrapped around his neck. They were swaying back and forth like some eight graders at their first dance. He didn’t mind one bit. Though, a few dancers around them gave them odd looks before going back to what they were doing.

“Were you jealous or something?” Steve asked finally.

Natasha scoffed, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Please. I wasn’t jealous. You looked uncomfortable, and just because Tony is drunk and more standoffish than usual doesn’t mean you should ruin your whole night.”

“Proving Tony wrong would never ruin my night,” he told her with a smirk.

She laughed a little. They were still swaying back and forth.

“Were you going to take her home?” Natasha asked softly, and Steve barely heard her over the music.

Steve blinked. He realized then that Natasha thought she’d misjudged, that he actually _had_ been having a good time, that he was actually interested in Brenda.

“No,” he said firmly, causing Natasha to look up at him. “Not my type anyway.”

She looked relieved when she raised an eyebrow at him, half a smile on her face. “Oh? And what would your type be then, Rogers?”

Steve paused. Then glanced over at Tony, who was still watching him from their little corner. Steve gave him a look that said, _you want proof? Here’s your proof._

“Steve—”

Natasha didn’t have time to finish before he kissed her. She froze for a fraction of a second before kissing him back, melting in his arms. Knowing now that she wasn’t going to slap him and then yank off his manhood with her bare hands, he deepened the kiss, sliding his hands lower towards the hem of her short, black lace dress. He dug his fingers into her upper thighs with almost bruising pressure and she gasped against his mouth, allowing him to slide his tongue along her lower lip.

Her hands slid up, fisting in his short hair, eliciting a groan from him. They were pressed so close together, his heartbeat louder than the music around them. Steve moved his mouth to the side of her neck, Natasha’s breath against his ear. He hiked up her dress a fraction of an inch and her breath hitched.

He leaned back so he could look at her. “Does that answer your question?”

She was breathing hard, and he felt a twinge of satisfaction that it was a result of him. She grinned. He didn’t even have to look over to know that Tony wasn’t the only one gaping at them.

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha whispered, drawing his attention back to her. “Now I just have one more: where in the _hell_ did you learn to kiss like that?”

He gave her a devilish grin, and leaned down, kissing the soft spot behind her ear before whispering, “Like I said, I’m not a virgin.”


	7. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from AleXaRomanoff (FF): nightmare fic
> 
> I'm such a sucker for nightmare fics, it's a problem. I don't know entirely how I feel about this one, but my brain is half-off today so. 
> 
> Enjoy! And don't forget to leave any prompts you guys would like to see!

Natasha and Steve were both perfectly aware of each other’s nightmares.

Natasha knew Steve worried about her too, getting them as often as she did (which was close to every night), but she didn’t mind. Not so long as he never saw her in the midst of one, or right after the fact. He was aware that she had horrific dreams, and that was as close to the subject as she’d let him get.

He seemed to feel the same way. She would catch him often, after she’d been woken in the middle of the night by her own dreams, lacing up his shoes to go for a run on the paths carved into the woods surrounding the new Avengers facility. Sometimes she would join him. Sometimes she would sit in the lounge area and catch up on paperwork or watch late night television until she was ready to catch a few more hours of sleep before the days duties awoke her once again.

They both knew why they were up at those odd hours, but she didn’t say anything, and neither did he. It was just a comfort having him there. And (she kept telling herself) as long as he never learned how bad her nightmares actually were, she was just fine leaving the situation as it was.

Though, Natasha should’ve known her luck wouldn’t last.

-:-

She and Steve were in the lounge area late one night after training, putting together a schedule for tomorrow’s training as they so often did. But, it was later than she thought and she wasn’t running on nearly enough coffee.

Natasha didn’t remember falling asleep, but she remembered waking up and, _god_ , she couldn’t _breathe._

Her vision was red, and she could still feel the blood all over her, sticking to her fingers and slipping down into her lungs and _she couldn’t breathe._ She gasped, scrambling for purchase on the couch she’d fallen asleep on.

Somewhere through her half-dreaming haze she could hear a voice, someone shouting her name, trying to get her flailing limbs under control, but she couldn’t seem to break completely free. Her mind was still half stuck in her nightmare and she was choking and bleeding and there was so much _blood_ and she couldn’t fucking _breathe._

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the red haze, to see past the nightmare, to feel anything but the sticky blood and cold metal against her skin and cold metal in her hands and around her wrists. Tried to hear anything but ballet music and the sound of bullet shells dropping to the smooth floor in a symphony of their own.

“ _Natasha!_ ” the voice shouted again and her eyes snapped open and her lungs filled with air and the nightmare disappeared.

She looked around frantically, trying to separate reality from her dreams, Steve’s worried face slowly piecing together in front of her. Some part of her brain registered that he was pinning her wrists down, watching her steadily so as to make sure she didn’t lash out at him or herself, but Natasha focused on breathing. In and out, in and out. One breath after another until she was sure that there was only oxygen pumping through her lungs and not blood.

“Let go of me,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

Steve let go slowly and she refused to look at him as she sat up, running a shaky hand through her hair.

“Nat, are you—?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, before he could finish.

She stood and he copied her movement, stepping close and reaching out to gently grab her arm.

“Natasha,”

“Let me go,”

He didn’t. He turned her body towards him and she looked up to meet his worried blue eyes for one second, and that was all it took.

“Let go of me!” she exploded, yanking her arm back and pushing him away.

He stumbled only slightly, not expecting the outburst.

Natasha stormed out of the lounge, not bothering to look back at him. She was halfway down the hall before the door even clicked back into its frame.

-:-

Natasha just stalked around base for a good hour, trying to cool off.

She knew she’d probably overreacted. But she was...embarrassed. She was annoyed at herself for even thinking that, but a small part of her was ashamed that Steve had to see her so low, so vulnerable. Not that she hadn’t shown that side of herself to him before, but this was different. Even though she knew that if anyone could understand, it was Steve.

But, after Bruce so brazenly left her out to dry all those months ago, she wasn’t too keen on having _anyone_ , especially Steve, see her so vulnerable.

Luckily, he was just as stubborn as she was. And when he found her a couple hours later, slumped against one of the walls in the gym, she accepted his company gratefully. He simply slid down the wall till he was seated next to her, legs bent towards his chest, forearms resting on his knees. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Slowly, swallowing down her pride, she scooted over until she was nestled into his side. He slung an arm around her shoulders, bringing them even closer.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, already getting sleepy curled up against the warmth of his body.

He might’ve said something, but she was already asleep.

-:-

Steve waited a few minutes, just to be sure Natasha wouldn’t wake. She looked so peaceful and he didn’t want to disturb her as he picked her up in his arms and carried her to his room.

He brought her to his room mostly so he could keep an eye on her after earlier. Steve knew that she had nightmares (and that she was equally aware of his own) but he’d know idea that they were this bad. And some part of him knew that this wasn’t even the worst of it.

Once Steve was in his room with the door shut softly behind him, he shifted Natasha’s weight to one arm, pulling back the covers on his bed so he could lay her down. She shifted a little, but didn’t open her eyes. She was still wearing her shoes and Steve pulled them off, setting them down quietly before pulling the blankets over her softly-breathing form.

Still dressed in that day’s clothes as well, he pulled them off, stripping down to his underwear before pulling on fresh sweatpants and a t-shirt. Moving quietly through his room, he grabbed a few extra blankets and laid them out on the floor. As he reached for the extra pillow on his bed, though, Natasha’s hand sluggishly reached for his own.

“Stay,” she mumbled, half asleep, eyes still closed.

“I am staying,” he said softly, not sure how much she heard. “I’ll be right there on the floor.”

“Don’t be such a gentleman, Rogers,” she responded. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as asleep as he thought.

“I’ll be fine on the floor,” he insisted.

“Just get your ass in bed and shut up.”

He considered arguing. He hand tightened minutely around his fingers and he understood the warning perfectly. Leaving the pillow, he crawled into bed next to her, laying on top of the comforter. She could protest all she wanted but he considered this to be a reasonable compromise.

He turned on his side so he could look at her. He was pretty sure she was really asleep now, her mouth parted just the slightest, her breathing soft.

Soon enough, his own eyes slipped shut and he slept without a single dream.

-:-

When Natasha woke in the morning it struck her that that was the best sleep she’d gotten in a long time. She looked over at Steve first, still asleep, on top of the blankets no less, because it was impossible for him to be anything less than a gentleman. She looked at his clock second.

“Shit,” she muttered, a little louder than she’d intended as she sat upright.

“What?” Steve said from beside her, suddenly awake, sitting up as well.

“Sorry,” she said, smiling at his disheveled appearance. “Didn’t mean to wake you. We overslept.”

Steve looked over at the clock. “Shit,” He echoed. He rubbed a hand down his face, but didn’t move to climb out of bed.

Her smile only got bigger after that.

Steve exhaled, then turned his gaze on her.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

“Better.” She didn’t mean for her voice to come out so sharp, but he didn’t seem bothered by it.

He nodded, like he was unsure whether or not to press the subject.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she blurted, before he could worry anymore. “About last night. I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have gotten angry. You were just trying to help.”

“I was worried about you,” he explained, voice soft. “You woke up and—”

He cut off and something twisted in Natasha’s gut.

“For a second it…it looked like you were _dying_ ,” Steve continued, not quite meeting her eyes. “I mean, obviously you weren’t, but when I heard you that’s the first thing I thought and it _terrified_ me. Once I figured out that it was a nightmare, I tried to snap you out of it and you just had this… _look_ on your face and I…I was just worried.”

It took a minute for Natasha to find her voice. She twisted the blankets in her hands, fisting her fingers together. “I know. I just never wanted you to see me like that. I was…embarrassed.”

Steve let out a breathy laugh, reaching out a hand. His fingers grazed under her chin, urging her to look up at him before he dropped his hand away. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Natasha,” he said sincerely, his gaze intense on hers. “I’m not going to judge you. I’m your friend. And I want you to know that you’re not alone. I’ll be here. Even if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll still be here.”

She felt tears involuntarily prick at the back of her eyes and she ducked her head in an effort to hide them. “I don’t deserve you,” she muttered.

He chuckled and scooted closer to her on the bed. Natasha didn’t protest as he pulled her into his arms. His arms were warm as they wrapped around her. She buried her face in his neck, curling her hands in the fabric of his t-shirt.

They stayed like that for a long time. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to.

-:-

Sleeping in the same bed became a habit. Natasha’s nightmares became less frequent, and so did Steve’s. Rumors spread, of course, but they just brushed them off. But when Steve asked her to move into his room for good (until they could find a place of their own outside the Avengers facility) well, it really wasn’t that big of a surprise to anyone.

 


	8. Attuned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Yvonne (ao3): Steve realizes Natasha is pregnant before she does because she's so preoccupied with work
> 
> Lots of fluff. I really enjoyed writing this one.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve had been staring at her for a good five minutes, and though Natasha had managed to ignore him for the most part, his expression kept getting more quizzical by the second and it was starting to annoy her. She was trying to focus. They were on a quinjet, almost to the drop zone for the mission they were currently running. But she could see Steve’s furrowed brow out of the corner of her eye and it was driving her crazy. “What?” she snapped finally, turning pivoting so she could look at him directly.

He tilted his head slightly. “You seem… _different._ ”

One of her eyebrows shot up in question. “Different? Really? _That’s_ why you’ve been staring at me all this time?”

“What? Can’t admire my fiancé?” he grinned, and she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. She wasn’t wearing her ring at the moment, them being on a mission and all, but she couldn’t say she didn’t miss the familiar weight of it on her finger.

“Seriously, though,” Steve pressed, looking concerned, “you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, Steve,” she told him gently, but firmly. “I would tell you if something was up.”

“No you wouldn’t. I practically have to torture that kind of stuff out of you.”

“Well,” now it was her turn to grin, “it’s the thought that counts.”

-:-

Over the next few days, while Natasha was so focused on all the missions they were being assigned and the mountain of paperwork she had to do, Steve just kept pestering her, asking question after question.

“You’re sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Are you sick?”

“Have you been eating enough?”

“You seem okay…but something’s off. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to get your period this week?”

That’s the question that made her head shoot up. They were sitting on the couch in their apartment, a quaint little place about a thirty minute drive from the new Avengers facility. She gave him a strange look and half a smile.

“Um, yeah, but how the hell do you know that?” she asked. “I mean I know we’re engaged, but that’s a little weird.”

He shrugged, the slightest of pinks tinging his cheeks. “Well, the serum heightened my senses so…I guess, I don’t know, I’m used to being around you so I just kind of… _know_ when you have it. Plus you get extra crabby when you have to wear anything other than sweatpants.”

She threw a pillow at him that he easily dodged with a laugh.

“Yes, you weirdo, I’m supposed to get my period this week. It’ll be here by tomorrow,” she promised him, even though, thinking about it, it was already a day or two late, which _never_ happened. But he didn’t need to know that because…no way. It wasn’t possible. Periods were wacky. Her body was just acting up, probably due to stress. That was all.

-:-

Clearly Steve didn’t buy her lie like she thought he did, because two days later he plopped a little pink box on their coffee table and smiled at her, crossing his muscle-bound arms across his chest.

She leaned forward from her spot on the couch and picked up the box. She recognized what it was, of course, and her heart did a fancy flipping routine in her chest. The box suddenly felt very heavy in her hands. There was just _no way—_

“What is this?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Exactly what it look like,” he replied. “I even called Laura to make sure I was buying the right thing. I mean I was pretty sure of what to get, but it’s a little different than buying you tampons, so I wanted to be sure. I mean I had this suspicion all week, just a feeling, but I asked Laura a few questions, just to be sure, about what it was like when she was first pregnant and the signs and stuff. I asked Clint a few questions, too, to see if he could tell when she—”

“Steve,” she cut him off. He must’ve been a hell of a lot more nervous than he’d originally let on, because he only babbled like that when he was really nervous. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Have you gotten your period yet?” he asked straightforwardly.

“No,” she grumbled after a moment.

“Yeah, I thought so,”

“That’s definitely a little creepy that you’re so attuned to my body.”

“Well, someone’s got to be,” he reasoned. “You’ve just been so distracted lately, and something is definitely up with you. I can’t really place my finger on it, but you’re just…different. You’ve got, like, a glow,”

“A glow?”

“Yeah…you know, like the pregnancy glow.”

There was something so _hopeful_ in his voice that made Natasha’s heart twist in her chest. There was a part of her that so badly wanted to believe that he was right, some distant part of her brain that had been tuning into her bodily functions when the rest of her hadn’t been, but…she also knew what they did to her body in the Red Room, knew how impossible it was. She just hated that she had to break that hope in him.

“I’m not pregnant, Steve,” she repeated, hating the way a little bit of that hope in his blue, blue eyes died.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “you’re probably right. So just humor me.”

“ _Steve_ —”

“What harm will it do to just see?”

 _My heart will literally break apart in my chest,_ is what she didn’t tell him. She and Steve had been together for nearly two years now, and it had been the best two years of her life. Not once in her Red Room days did she ever imagine falling in love the way she’d fallen for Steve Rogers, much less having kids, a family with him. But his insistence the past week, the pregnancy test that weighed a million pounds in her hands, it had given her hope for the future. _Their_ future. And she didn’t want those daydreams crushed by some stupid plastic stick.

“Fine,” she told him, getting up from the couch.

 _It’ll be fine,_ she told herself, _it’s just a stupid test. It’ll be fine, no matter what the results are._

She could feel Steve’s presence outside the bathroom door the entire time, weighing on her, making her heart beat even faster than it already was.

When she finished, she didn’t even look at the stick. She pulled up and fastened her jeans then washed her hands. Then washed them again. And then a third time just to be safe—

“Nat, you all right in there?”

“Yeah,” she replied, but her voice broke on the syllable and she cursed to herself.

She could practically hear Steve thinking through the door, debating with himself on whether or not he should force his way into the bathroom. Luckily, her fiancé was a little more patient than she was in certain situations and he waited outside silently, giving her space.

Taking a few deep breaths and hating the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes, she finally picked up the test…and nearly sobbed. There were two colored bands on the test. A wobbly smile danced on her lips. She quickly swallowed it down though. It was just one test. It could be a fluke. Because…what they did to her body…it was supposed to be _impossible…._ then again, they probably never predicted the super soldier serum’s effect on one of their agents. Still, she had to be sure.

“Hey, Steve?” she called through the door, trying to keep her voice level.

“Yeah?”

“How many of these tests did you buy?”

-:-

Half an hour, several glasses of water, and three more tests later, Natasha was standing in front of Steve. She could barely speak she was so nervous, and he was practically bursting out of his skin he was so anxious to hear the answer he already knew.

He took one of her shaking hands in his, holding it tight as she found the strength to speak.

“I don’t know how,” she whispered finally, “I don’t know how you knew or how it’s even _possible_ , and we’ll definitely have to go to a real doctor to be sure but I…I think I’m…I’m pregnant.”

Natasha had never seen Steve smile so big, her eyes not the only ones a little watery anymore. He hunched down just a little, so he could look her more evenly in the eye.

“Told you so,” he said quietly.

She shoved his arm hard, rolling her eyes and he took a step back to steady himself, laughing, smiling, beaming with absolute _joy_.

The next second he had his arms wrapped around her, lips firmly pressed against her own in a kiss that absolutely stole her breath away and made her heart stutter in her chest.

“I still think it’s a little freaky how you knew before I did,” she murmured against his mouth, her fingers curling into his hair.

He chuckled breathily, pulling away and touching their foreheads together, his hands cupping either side of her face.

“You’re pregnant,” he whispered. “You’re _pregnant_.”

She smiled, pulling his mouth down to hers again, knowing that she was going to be hearing those words _a lot_ over the next nine months.


	9. Dance With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I realize it's been like 5 months since I updated this. I apologize. I had planned on not updating these drabbles regularly but I definitely didn't think it would be this long. So, sorry again. I haven't actually written hardly anything in months, so, I'm actually really glad I'm getting this up. 
> 
> Anyway, enough boring stuff. This drabble isn't a prompt, but I actually have a prompt drabble almost complete, so I'll post that one in a day or two. But this one just includes a dance. I would say this is set sometime after Age of Ultron, but discounting some of the things that happened in AoU (mainly Bruce/Natasha and Pietro dying). 
> 
> Any and all prompts are accepted! Enjoy!

Steve was actually pretty impressed with Tony. After the enormity of his friend’s engagement party, he was expecting the actual wedding to be just as grand, if not more so. But from what Natasha had told him, Tony and Pepper had made a compromise. Big engagement party, complete with all the reporters and famous people and rich acquaintances that they didn’t really know, all to appease the papers and curious eyes. But that meant a small wedding, with only their close friends and families in attendance, which Pepper and Tony seemed to be enjoying immensely.

And Steve was thoroughly impressed. Things sometimes had a habit of getting out of control when it came to Tony and events like this, but his friend had kept his promise to his now-wife. Steve was glad for the small size, too, since it meant he could be Steve, and not Captain America. They could all, in fact, just be themselves tonight, there to support two of their closest friends getting married.

They were well into the after-party at this point, the end of the whole event nearing. They were in New York, outside the city in a quaint little reception hall by a lake. It was a warm spring evening and most of them had made their way to the tables and small dancefloor outside so they could enjoy the fresh air. The sky was brimming full of stars, matching the string lights hung up around the patio. Tony and Pepper hadn’t moved from the little dancefloor for over an hour, and Steve smiled at them from his spot seated at one of the tables. They were only swaying back and forth now, had been for a while, but they both hadn’t stopped smiling for hours, and he could see them talking quietly between each other, Tony looking at Pepper like she was the very moon that hung bright and full in the sky.  

Looking around, Steve spotted Rhodey, Sam, and Bucky off to one side, drinks in hand, talking jovially, big smiles all around. Wanda was seated with Laura, who held baby Nathaniel, while Pietro entertained Copper and Lila, making them laugh with his displays of speed. Bruce and Jane were talking excitedly, Vision pitching in every once in a while, while Thor watched Jane affectionately from the side. The others, Maria, Darcy, Clint, and Natasha, were all seated at the bar, chatting, swapping stories.

Steve knew he should join his friends instead of sitting on the sidelines all by himself, but there was a part of this that made him sad. Back in the 40s, it had seemed so much easier to imagine himself finding a great girl, getting married and settling down one day. But then he’d crashed the _Valkyrie_ in the ice and everything had changed. He was, of course, beyond happy to see Tony and Pepper so happy, and see all his other friends enjoying themselves so much, but it was till a reminder of all that he had lost. After so long out of the ice, after so much time to come to terms with his life, it shouldn’t bother him so much, but every once in a while he still wished that he could go back, change just a moment or two, maybe then he would get the chance to have this happy ending too.

Deciding that a wedding was not the place for wallowing and self-pity, Steve threw back the rest of his drink. When he looked back up, Natasha was in front of him with a sideways smile on her face. She was still wearing her bridesmaid dress, a simple but elegant navy blue piece that fell just above her knees. Not for the first time that night Steve noticed how beautiful she looked.

“Now what’s guy like you doing over here all by himself?” she teased.

Steve chuckled. “Oh, the usual. Brooding and lamenting the fact that I can’t get drunk.”

Natasha tipped her head back and laughed, and Steve found himself smiling, watching her. It wasn’t often that he got to see her so loose, so lighthearted and carefree, and he automatically felt better.

“So, what? Not even a buzz when you drink?” she asked.

“Mm, if I get a buzz it lasts a few minutes at most if I’m lucky. And then the serum metabolizes it and it goes away.”

“Damn shame, too,” she said with a smile. “Maybe you’d be more fun if you were drunk.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Are _you_ drunk?”

“No, of course not,” Natasha replied, her expression sobering enough that Steve knew she was telling the truth. “Takes a little more to get me drunk. Russian, remember?”

He grinned. “How could I forget?”

Natasha smirked. “I don’t know what’s got you so down, but clearly it’s not enough to keep you from being a relentless flirt.”

“First, I’m not down. There’s nothing wrong—”

“Oh, please,” Natasha scoffed, “I could feel you brooding all the way over at the bar. You just need to loosen up.”

Steve leaned forward. “And how do you propose I do that?”

Natasha pondered for a moment, before stretching out a hand. “Come dance with me.”

Suddenly all of Steve’s flirtatious confidence vanished. “No, I couldn’t, really—”

Noting his change in mood, Natasha’s gaze softened. “Come on, just one dance.”

He shook his head. “I really couldn’t.”

“Can’t? Or are you just afraid to?”

Steve thought briefly of Peggy, but the thought disappeared nearly as quickly as it came. “I’m not—”

“Come on, Rogers. Please dance with me. No more excuses, they won’t work on me anyway.”

“Even if I said I never danced before?” he said softly, meeting her eyes.

Natasha’s face fell for a millisecond before she perked up again, a kind smile on her face, gaze soft. “Then I’ll show you. Come on.”

Steve looked at her a moment longer. _No more dwelling in the past,_ he thought. There was a beautiful woman in front of him (one that he’d admittedly thought about as more than a friend more than once) asking him to dance. He wasn’t going to wait too long this time. Steve stood and took her outstretched hand, letting her lead him onto the dance floor. Tony and Pepper had finally left and were now making the rounds, chatting with their friends as the wedding came closer to an end. Music was still playing over the speakers, though, soft and sweet, nothing Steve couldn’t keep up with.

Once on the dance floor, Natasha guided Steve’s hands down to her waist, his fingers sliding smoothly against the silky fabric of her dress. Natasha wound her arms around his neck, stepping close enough to him so that their chests just barely touched. Steve thought he would feel embarrassed, having never danced before, but he found that being this close, having her guide him, was a comfort. It was familiar. They’d sparred together so many times together that he knew her body, knew every movement and muscle as well as his own. Though he didn’t do much more than shuffle his feet awkwardly and try to keep from blushing the first few minutes of their dance, he caught on well enough after that, moving with her almost as well as they did in the sparring ring.

They stepped it up a little bit after that, switching their hands around so he kept one on her waist, clasping the other in one of her hands. He told himself it was just like learning a new combat move, and that it would take some practice before he got the hang of it. And when he was pretty sure he was no longer at risk of making a fool of himself, he smiled softly at Natasha.

“See?” she said quietly. “Not too bad, huh, super soldier?”

He chuckled. “No, I guess not. But I have a pretty great teacher.”

“Well, now you’re just being a flirt again.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, right?”

Natasha laughed, but when she met his eyes, her features softened. “What was bothering you earlier?”

“Nat, I—”

“Come on, Steve. I know you. I know when something’s wrong. What were you thinking about?”

Steve took a deep breath, smoothing his thumb over the fabric of her dress. Given their proximity, he felt rather than saw her suck in a breath, and the hand holding his, tightened minutely around his fingers. Looking at her, Steve felt his heart stutter in his chest, and despite the overwhelming urge to kiss her all of the sudden, he decided to answer her question instead.

“I was…I was thinking about the past,” he admitted and she watched him, listening patiently, intently. “Back in the 40s it, uh, wasn’t so hard to imagine something like this for myself. And I guess now I just…now I don’t know. I don’t know if I can ever have something like this.”

“A wedding?” Natasha asked softly. “Or happiness?”

Steve swallowed, stunned into silence by her ability to read him, to see exactly what he was thinking yet again. It used to unnerve him, bother him even a little, but now he was so grateful for it. He never thought anyone would be able to know him like Bucky, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Both, I guess,” he responded. “But mostly the latter.”

Natasha nodded. “Well, I can’t fix that. I can’t turn back the clock for you. But I _can_ be here for you. No matter what. We’re a team and I’ll always have your back. Okay?”

Steve just looked at her for a moment, grateful beyond the capacity of words. “Okay.”

“And just so you know, I believe that you’ll find happiness. Somewhere, or with someone. Maybe not today, or even in a year, but I know you, Steve, and if anyone is capable of finding happiness in this world, it’s you.”

She squeezed his fingers, and suddenly the dance floor didn’t matter, the music, the wedding, their friends, none of it. All that mattered was Natasha, standing here right in front of him. And he realized that maybe finding the happiness he’d dreamed about 70 years ago was standing right in front of him as well.

 

 


	10. Coffee? It's a Date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And a lot sooner than last time, as promised. I have a few more drabbles I'm working on, so I should update again at some point this upcoming week.
> 
> Prompt from Michelle (ao3) (finally getting around to this one): Interoffice romance AU with Steve as boss and Nat as his secretary. 
> 
> Don't forget to send in any prompts, I love seeing what you guys come up with! Enjoy!

Natasha was running _so_ late.

She had an interview that morning so, naturally, the universe decided to fuck her over and everything that could go wrong, did. First, her alarm hadn’t gone off, so she’d had to hurry around her apartment and still try to look presentable and make sure she had everything. She’d nearly forgotten her resume walking out the door into the chill of the winter air. Then her car had taken forever to start, and then she had to wait for it to warm up, but she was still freezing by the time it did, so she stopped for coffee. The line was as long as it could possibly get, but she was cold and desperate for the caffeine so she waited it out. Luckily they didn’t screw up her order. A silver lining, she supposed.

Now she was rushing through the lobby of the huge office building, owned by prestigious businessman Tony Stark himself, for an interview with one of his top men. Frantically checking her watch for the hundredth time that morning, she wasn’t paying attention as she walked quickly towards the bank of elevators along the right wall. Her luck just got worse as she slammed into someone else also heading for the elevators from the direction. The remainder of her coffee spilled all over the person, who she realized was a guy as she looked up at him, absolutely horrified.

“I am _so_ sorry!” she said, not knowing to do with her hands.

The man looked down at his now coffee-stained white button-down, his expression startled for a moment longer, before he glanced up at her. Seeing his face fully, Natasha noted that he was, well, he was pretty damn attractive. Tall, insanely broad shoulders with a trim waist to match, dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes, easy smile as he took her in…yeah, he was good looking.

She shook her head, focusing, “I am really, really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and I…I completely ruined your shirt. I am so sorry.”

The man gave her half a smile and a little shrug. “It’s ok, really. It happens.”

He didn’t really look mad, Natasha noticed, and she allowed herself to relax, despite the fact that she was going to be _really_ late for her interview now.

“Oh, here,” Natasha dug around in her purse as they moved close enough to the elevators for the man to press the button. She pulled out some napkins she’d grabbed at the coffee shop and handed them to him as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “Again, I’m really sorry about your shirt.”

He chuckled, gratefully taking the napkins and dabbing at the fabric as the elevator went up. “Really, it’s no big deal. Truth be told, I kind of hated this shirt anyway.”

Natasha laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Natasha, by the way.”

“Steve,” he replied, sticking out a hand, which she reached out and shook. Natasha thought the name sounded familiar, that maybe even he was someone she recognized, but she pushed those thoughts out of way as the elevator came to a stop on the top floor.

“Ladies first,” Steve said with a grin as the doors opened.

“Thanks.” She thumbed the strap of her purse, waiting for Steve as he, too, exited the elevator.

“Well, Natasha, it was very nice to meet you, spilled coffee and all,” Steve said, smiling as she laughed. “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Maybe you will,” she replied.

He gave her one last parting grin before heading off to the right, towards a line of larger offices along the back wall. Natasha watched him go until he was out of sight. Then, despite already being incredibly late for her interview, rushed off the women’s bathroom. She threw her now-empty coffee cup in the trash and then went over the sink to wash her hands. Then she checked her shirt, buttoning up her cardigan when she noticed a few flecks of coffee against the pale blue of her blouse. With a deep breath, she hoisted the strap of her purse higher onto her shoulder and then walked out of the bathroom. Double-checking the office number for Mr. Rogers, the man interviewing her, she headed towards the offices in the back.

  Figuring that it wasn’t going to be a real great impression to be late given that she was going for a secretarial position, she squared her shoulders and tried to remain confident. She had an impressive resume and she’d prepared for this interview for a week, so she wasn’t going to let a stream of bad luck deter her.

She should’ve known better, though, and maybe taken more notice of the name on the sign of the door. But she didn’t, and she only made the connections she should’ve before when an assistant let her into the office of Steve Rogers for her interview, the very same Steve who’d had enough time to change his shirt, given that she spilled coffee all over the first one.

They looked at each other for a moment, before Steve gave a shy little smile and said, “Well, at least we got our awkward first meeting out of the way.”

And just like that, all her horror and surprise and nervousness vanished. She gave him a dazzling smile and seated herself in the chair in front of his desk. “Guess so,” she agreed. “Still, maybe we should start over. I’m Natasha Romanoff. Pleasure to meet you.”

Steve only smiled bigger, and she already realized she would never get tired of that smile. “Steve Rogers. Very nice to meet you, Ms. Romanoff. Shall we?”

-:-

She ended up getting the job, so Natasha supposed her luck couldn’t have been that bad. She, briefly, wondered if it had been a pity hire, but seeming to sense her thoughts, Mr. Rogers had assured her that she’d had the most impressive resume, and despite a bad morning, she was the most qualified for the job of being his secretary.

Despite her initial attraction to him, she decided to push any personal feelings aside. She was a professional, after all. But that didn’t keep her and Steve from becoming close. They were good friends. But after spending a lot of late nights at the office, filing and sorting papers, going over paperwork, the morning coffee runs, and the lunches spent in his office, it was hard not to get close to him. So, despite taking her job seriously and being the professional woman that she was, well, she was still just a woman, and Steve was a seriously attractive man (in both looks and personality) and every once in a while she found herself looking, admiring him from behind (because _damn,_ that ass should be downright illegal). And, sometimes, she would day dream about a coffee run that was actually a date, but she had to remind herself that he was her boss, and they could get in serious trouble.

One rainy night, six months after getting hired, Natasha was walking out to her car, one of the last ones left in the parking garage. She’d wanted to wait for Steve to leave, too, but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be so he told her to go on ahead without him. Climbing into her crap car, Natasha was only half-surprised when it wouldn’t start. She tried turning the key again. Still nothing. A couple more times but the engine still wouldn’t turn over.

“Perfect,” she sighed.

Apparently the universe didn’t hate her as much as she sometimes thought because when she looked out her window, she saw Steve walking to his car, just a little ways down from hers. Asking him for a ride wasn’t unprofessional, right? I mean they were friends, it would be fine. It was either that or wait god knew how long for a tow truck to pick up her car and then get a taxi for herself. Swallowing her pride and any doubts she had, Natasha grabbed anything of value and stepped out of her car, being sure to lock it anyway.

“Steve,” she called out. He stopped and turned, waiting for her to catch up. Given the late hour, the only noises were the rain falling on the roof of the parking garage and her heels clicking against the cement floor.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steve said when she reached him.

“My car crapped out on me,” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder at her decrepit vehicle, “Don’t suppose you’d mind giving me a ride would you? I don’t live too far from here, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Of course not,” Steve said, walking her to his car.

They chat easily as he drives to her place, and Natasha can’t help but think about how much more… _intimate_ it feels being in his car with him. They spend practically all day together, every day of the week, have been in close proximities before, so this wasn’t really anything new. But something about the rain pounding down against the car, the steady beat of the windshield wipers as they attempted to keep up with the torrent, the radio just barely audible, it made the inside of his (much nicer) car seem all the more comfortable and inviting.

Those thoughts quickly disappeared as Steve idled in front of her building. “Here we are,”

“Thank you, again,” Natasha told him earnestly.

He shook his head. “It’s really no trouble.”

She smiled. “Well, I appreciate it all the same.”

“Any time, really,” Steve promised. “Speaking of, what time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?”

“Wha—? Oh, no, you don’t have to do that, Steve,” she said quickly.

“I really don’t mind, Natasha,” Steve replied, giving her that warm, charming smile that made it nearly impossible to argue with him.

“Really, I can just call a cab or get a ride with Maria or something.”

“Come on. We can even stop for coffee and you can buy me a muffin or something if you really want to, but it’s really no big deal.”

Natasha exhaled, knowing that he would insist, because he was just that much of a gentleman. “Okay,” she relented, and Steve beamed. “How about 7:15, if we’re going to stop for coffee and all?”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

Natasha stepped out of the car, and right before she shut the door, he leaned over and met her eyes. “Good night, Natasha.”

She couldn’t help the smile that formed across her face. “Good night, Steve.”

-:-

As Natasha was heading out the following night, Steve stopped her.

“Here,” he said, handing her a business card. “I figured your car might still need a looking at, and my friend Bucky owns an auto-shop. This is his number. He’ll give you a far better deal than any of the chains around the city.”

Natasha looked at the card, then back up at Steve. “Thanks.” She smiled in gratitude. “You have a friend named Bucky?”

Steve chuckled. “That’s just a nickname, but yeah. We’ve been friends since we were kids. Served in the army together. He’s a good guy, you’ll like him.”

“You trying to set me up or something, Rogers?” she teased.

“Well, if I was, he would be a very lucky guy.”

Natasha tried not to read too much into that as they parted ways and she went to go meet Maria, who was giving her a ride home.

-:-

Things just got even flirtier between them over the next six months. But that’s all it amounted to—flirting. Teasing remarks, a touch on the arm here and there, smirks and smiles, all of it just adding to Natasha’s frustration. She couldn’t get a read on Steve. She knew part of it was just part of his charming personality, but the other half, she had no clue if he was doing it on purpose or what. But she supposed it didn’t matter anyway because he was still her boss.

Natasha was puzzling over it one morning when Steve called her into his office, which wasn’t abnormal in itself. She was in his office all the time; that was her job. But his tone of voice worried her. But she took a deep breath and followed him, shutting the door behind her.

“What’s up?” Natasha asked, taking a seat in front of his desk.

Steve bit his lip, took a deep breath, and finally looked up at her. “Natasha, you working for me this past year has been wonderful—”

“Are you firing me?” she blurted, unable to help herself.

Steve stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before quickly shaking his head. “No! No, of course not. Well…kind of.”

“You’re kind of firing me?”

“Promoting you, actually,” Steve said, a little shyly.

Natasha blinked. Now she was the dumbfounded one. “You’re… _promoting_ me?”

Steve smiled. “Yes. To a manager.”

“Manager,” she echoed in disbelief.

“You’ve talked about moving up in the ranks before, and you’ve shown tremendous development and leadership skills the last six months, so I recommended you for a promotion. A friend and close colleague of mine, Sam Wilson, I think you’ve met him before, he works downstairs, and a manger positon just opened up on his floor. I gave him your resume and he was thoroughly impressed. The job is yours, if you want it.”

Natasha sat processing for a moment longer before breaking out into a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. Yes, of course. I—thank you, so much. I hate to leave you without a secretary, but,”

“It’s completely okay, Natasha.” Steve smiled. “I can get a new secretary. I wouldn’t have recommended you if I didn’t think you were perfect for the position.”

“I really don’t know what to say. I can’t say thank you enough, for everything.”

“Pleasure has been all mine, Natasha. Besides, we’ll still see each other around. I’ll let Sam know that you can start tomorrow.”

“Of course,” she said, getting up to go.

“Oh, Natasha, one more thing,” Steve said, and she turned back to him. “Would you like to go get coffee some time?”

She gave him a little smirk. “We get coffee all the time.”

Steve grinned. “I know. But since I’m no longer your boss and all, I thought we could make a date of it this time.”

_So maybe it hadn’t all been in her head after all._

“I would like that very much.”

           


	11. Farmhouse Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my friend requested a Clint and Laura drabble of when they first get the farmhouse and this happened. I've got another Steve and Natasha one in the works right now, though I have kind of a busy week ahead of me, so it might be a few more days before I post it, but I had this drabble, so I figured why not post it here?
> 
> I didn't really have a set timeline for when this takes place, only that it happens sometime before the first Avengers movie and that Laura and Natasha have already met. We never got really any information on Clint and Laura's past or their marriage so yeah. 
> 
> You guys, of course, can give me any kind of prompts that you want. Steve and Natasha are going to be the subject of the majority of these drabbles, but any other pairings or characters or anything you guys would like to see, just let me know!
> 
> Enjoy!

“Just one hint?” Laura asked her husband, looking over at him. They’d been driving for almost an hour, heading outside the city of New York and into the countryside, and Laura had been bugging him pretty much the whole time.

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “You know you keep asking me, but the answer is still no.”

“I just want to know where we’re going.”

Clint smiled, giving her a quick look before turning his eyes back on the road. “Yeah, but then it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?”

“I suppose not, but I also know you’re terrible at keeping secrets—”

“I’m a _spy,_ honey,” he interrupted with a laugh, “I have to be somewhat good at keeping secrets or I wouldn’t be that good at my job.”

Laura gave him a look. “Okay, to clarify, you’re not very good at keeping secrets from me or Natasha.”

“That is not true, I keep secrets all the time. You’re just frustrated because you have no idea what I have planned.”

Laura paused, before smiling a little begrudgingly. “Okay, maybe a little. But it’s just because I’m so used to you telling me everything.”

She _was_ kind of impressed that Clint had managed to keep his trap shut because he was pretty bad at keeping things from her. She either knew how to get it out of him or he’d tell her anyway. Or he’d try to keep it from her and she’d guess anyway. Either way, this was different. Admittedly, she was _excited_. She had no clue what Clint had planned, only that it was a big surprise. She’d gotten nothing out of him. Not even a word out of Natasha who she had a feeling knew what was going on, but had sworn silence.

“We’re almost there,” Clint announced, and Laura felt another surge of excitement. The butterflies in her stomach were going crazy, though that wasn’t completely her anticipation for Clint’s surprise. No matter what he had to show her, she’d decided to tell him the secret she’d been keeping for a few days. Swapping surprises seemed fair, she thought.

A few minutes later, Clint turned off the two-lane highway onto a dirt road. Laura nearly didn’t see it, as it was concealed by trees on both sides. They drove in silence for a mile or two, Laura watching in wonder out the window as they passed by trees, rolling hills visible in the distance. It was a gorgeous day, early in the summer, warm but not overwhelmingly so, and she rolled down her window in order to let the fresh air in. She glanced over at Clint and he was smiling big.

He stopped the car moments later, in the middle of the dirt road, right in a spot where the trees started to thin and the land started to open up. They climbed out of the car and Clint walked over to her side. “All right, since this is a surprise and all, I need you to close your eyes.”

Considering protesting, Laura decided against it and closed her eyes, barely able to contain a smile. “You better not let me trip over any tree roots.”

Clint chuckled. “I won’t, promise. So long as you don’t peek.”

If her eyes had been open, Laura would have rolled them. “I won’t peek.”

“Good,” Clint said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

Laura stood there for a second longer before Clint reached out and gently took her hand, guiding her along the road, the dirt crunching under her feet. It felt like forever that they walked for, but Laura didn’t mind. Clint’s hand was warm in her own, and he made sure not to walk too fast. He was really all she needed. She still couldn’t believe sometimes that he was her husband. Clint Barton. Spy for SHIELD. Assassin. Skilled marksman. They’d been dating for nearly a year before he told her all of that, told her that he would do whatever it took to protect her from anyone who might use her against him. And after nearly two years of marriage, she believed him just as much as he had when he first told her. Still, it did make her nervous, thinking about what she had to tell him—

“Okay,” Clint said suddenly the silence and pulling her to a stop slowly, “You can open your eyes.”

Laura did, and she gasped. There, in front of them, was a huge farmhouse. Right out in the middle of nowhere. She hadn’t even seen it coming up the road because the trees had concealed it.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, squeezing Clint’s hand. “It’s…oh, it’s beautiful, Clint.”

Clint pulled her closer to him, leaning down to give her forehead a quick kiss. “Well, I know you talked about moving away from the city at some point, and I thought this was perfect. I got a hell of a deal on it, and Fury said that it was obscure enough that wiping it off the grid should be no problem, so it’s completely safe. And I figured that would be best, what with a baby on the way and all—”

Laura pulled back, stunned. “Baby? How—how did you know?”

Clint rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Admittedly, I accidentally kicked the garbage over the other day because I wasn’t paying attention and, well, it doesn’t matter, but I saw the pregnancy test and I—”

Laura leaned up and kissed him before he could ramble on any further. He returned the kiss immediately, smiling against her lips.

“I was going to tell you today,” Laura told him, pulling back an inch. “I didn’t tell you sooner because I wasn’t sure how you would take it. I mean I know we’ve talked about it before in the past, but I know that your job can be dangerous and I was nervous.”

“I understand,” Clint told her gently, cupping her face and giving her another soft kiss. “But I couldn’t be happier.”

“Really?”

He smiled, his eyes shining. “Really. I want to have all the kids in the world with you.”

Laura laughed, letting him pull her to his side as they walked slowly towards the farmhouse. “Let’s just start with one, okay?”

Clint grinned. “Probably a good idea,” he paused, “But you really like the house?”

“I love it.”

“Good. I’ll show you around, but I was thinking that one of the upstairs rooms would be perfect for a nursery. And there’s maybe a few changes that could made to the layout downstairs. There’s also another room upstairs that would be perfect for a guest room. It’s got a little bathroom, and—”

“Clint, honey, we haven’t even moved in yet. Maybe let’s ease up on the renovation plans for now.”

“Sorry. You know me, gotta stay busy.”

Laura scoffed. “I know. I have no idea how I’m going to keep up with you _and_ a baby.”

“Baby,” Clint whispered to himself with a huge smile, before turning to her and giving her the look that reminded her why she fell in love with him in the first place. “I like the sound of that.”

 


	12. The Proposal (Pt. 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realize that I am very bad at telling you guys I'm going to update and then months go by. So, I apologize. This semester has just been killer for my time and motivation. I hope this long (multi-part) drabble makes up for it a little bit!
> 
> Prompt from SpiritFeather19524 (FF): proposal 
> 
> So this was just going to be one part, and then it started to get longer and longer, so I decided to split it up into two parts. I have started the second part and will hopefully get it posted in the next few days. I greatly apologize if it takes a while. Life gets in the way and there's less than 3 weeks left in the semester and honestly there's probably a lot of typos but my brain is tired and is not catching all of them.
> 
> Enjoy!

“ _Cap, get out of there, it’s a trap!_ ”

Natasha had barely enough time to process Sam’s words shouted over the comms before the hairs on the back of her neck rose and every fiber of her being screamed for her to get out of there as fast as she could.

Steve must’ve felt the same tug in his gut that she did, telling him that the threat to them was immediate. “Nat!” He tossed her his shield from where he stood, completely on the opposite side of the expansive basement. She caught it in her hand easily, having used it enough to wield it rather efficiently, though never near the level Steve was at.

Natasha had just barely raised the red, white, and blue disc over her head before the building exploded, fire surrounding her and the foundation shaking as debris rained down on top of them. Natasha gritted her teeth, everything so, so loud around her, chunks of ceiling and wall crashing down around her. The flames roared, sweat beading against her brow as the fire scorched dangerously close to her skin. She gripped Steve’s shield tight, curling herself under the vibranium as the world fell apart around them.

Natasha didn’t know how long it lasted, wasn’t sure when it ended at first because it still felt like she could hear the explosion in her ears, given how they were ringing. She blinked, trying to squeeze the fog from her vision and see past the dust and smoke that were swirling through the air. She could hear flames still crackling, the shift of the rubble as it settled around her. Her mind flashed briefly to almost two years ago now, when she and Steve had been on the run from Hydra and they’d nearly been blown up in an old military bunker where Arnim Zola’s consciousness was being stored on hundreds of databanks. She exhaled. _So much for this being an easy op,_ she thought to herself as she slowly started to move. A small Hydra cell had taken up residence in the half-constructed building, and Steve had wanted to take care of it before the group grew in size. She had joined Steve, along with Sam and Wanda, because even though the number of Hydra members was small, the intel they’d gathered told them the group had some pretty heavy weaponry, and they all figured it’d be a good training mission for Wanda. It had been, too, up until this point.

Using the shield, Natasha pushed against the debris covering her, muscles straining as she tried to loosen the huge chunks of rubble away from her. Breathing hard, she pushed again, grunting in effort as a piece gave way and more air filtered into the cocoon of rocks she’d been buried in. Her body ached as she pulled herself out of her little hole, but finally, inch by inch, she freed herself from where she’d been crouching when the explosion hit. She took a step and winced, only imagining all the cuts and bruises she had. She took a breath, noting that her chest didn’t hurt too badly, but enough that she concluded her ribs were probably mildly bruised. She could feel blood on her temple, head throbbing dully.

With a sigh, Natasha gripped the shield tighter, eyes adjusting to the dull gray light of the destroyed basement. The realization hit her like a bullet—fast and hot, all the breath in her lungs leaving her in a gasp. She still had Steve’s shield. He’d thrown it to her which meant he’d had no protection when the explosion had hit, no doubt saving her life, but possibly destroying his own.

“Steve!” she called out immediately, voice hoarse from the dust and smoke still hanging in the air and her own cries when the building came down. “ _Steve!_ ”

There was no reply. The only sound that came back to her was the echo of her own voice, the rattle of her lungs as they expanded and contracted with each labored breath. Natasha lifted her comm up, “Sam? Wanda? Does anybody copy?” Radio silence.  “Sam?” she tried again, “Sam, do you copy? Hill? Wanda?” Nothing. There was no doubt too much rubble on top of her for a signal to get through.

“Dammit,” she muttered. Taking a deep breath, Natasha tried not to let her thoughts wander to the worst case scenario, which was that Steve was dead. She couldn’t let her emotions get in the way, despite feeling like her chest was caving in, pressing down on her already fragile heart. But she couldn’t get over the image of him, possibly crushed under hundreds of pounds of rubble, broken, bleeding, wounded in ways even the super soldier serum wouldn’t be able to fix. Side by side with that was everything that she had felt and experienced over the past eight months of them being together. Every touch, every kiss, every smile he threw her way, every knowing look and teasing remark. The nights he spent, tangled in the sheets with her, dotting kisses over her sweat-sheened body as his fingers traced lines over her skin, the artist in him worshipping her body in a way that was uniquely his own. _He’s going to be fine,_ she told herself, trying to hold onto the good feeling the memories of them brought. _He’s going to be fine,_ she repeated silently.

Steeling herself, Natasha dug into her utility belt, pulled out the small flashlight she had on hand. It wasn’t much, the thing itself no bigger than her palm, but the beam was bright and, ultimately, it was better than nothing. “Steve?” she called out again, picking her way carefully through the rubble to where she’d last seen him. She continued to call his name, doing her best to speak pas the worry clogging her throat. _Be optimistic, Natasha,_ she thought a little sourly, _he’s Captain America. It’s going to take more than a stupid building to bring him down._ But she’d nearly covered the hundred feet of space that had separated her and Steve when the explosion hit and she still hadn’t found him. Pushing down her panic, she tried again, “Steve?”

And by the grace of some higher power, or maybe just by sheer luck, Natasha heard a responding groan. A sigh of relief fell from her mouth. “Steve!” she made her way cautiously over to where she thought she’d heard him. Shining her meager flashlight she scanned the floor and rubble for any sign of him, desperately hoping she would find him in one piece. “Steve, where are you?”

Another groan, possibly her name, sounded ten feet from her. She scrambled over a large chunk of concrete and spotted a flash of blue and white from his uniform. Breath catching in her throat, she dashed over to him, dropping his shield with a clatter as she fell to her knees beside him.

“Oh my god, Steve,” she breathed, relief, and horror, mingling in her voice. He was alive, but from what she could see from her quick scan of his body, he wasn’t in good shape. At the moment, though, the relief was winning her over, and she set her flashlight down so she could gingerly reach down to unfasten his helmet and carefully slip it off his head, running her fingers through his sweaty hair.

“Natasha,” he breathed, obviously relieved, “You’re okay.”

She sniffled, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She pressed a quick, desperate kiss to his lips, trying to ignore the bite of coppery blood on his mouth. “Yeah, because you’re a dumbass.”

He chuckled “Won’t argue with you there. It’s pretty bad.”

Natasha swallowed, not trusting herself to speak, moving so she could examine his injuries up close. He was on the floor of the basement, but half-buried by rubble. His head, because of his helmet, was relatively uninjured except for a few cuts and bruises, dust streaking his cheeks. The further down his body she worked, the worse it got. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, and even in the half-light she could tell it was broken, possibly in two places. There was no bone sticking out, though, so she supposed that was a good sign. His right arm was trapped against his chest by a big chunk of concrete.

Deciding they needed to free that arm first before she could get a good look at the rest of his body, she started pulling on the rock, Steve pushing with his arm. It took a few minutes, and by the end Natasha was breathing hard, but it finally gave way and she sidestepped to avoid having her toes crushed as it tumbled off his body and fell to the ground with a loud clamor. Steve gasped, forehead beaded with sweat.

“So…how bad is it?” Steve said, out of breath, in a tone of voice that implied that he knew _exactly_ how bad it was.

Natasha took a deep breath, chest aching as she picked up her flashlight again and shined the light over his body. Steve had to rebars through his torso—one through his left shoulder, and another through his left flank, both having been concealed by piece of concrete that had been on his chest seconds before. His uniform was wet with blood in both spots, the metal bars jutting out of his body, connected on the other end to pieces of rubble that twisted under and away from him. There was no way Natasha could lift him off the rebars, and no way she could pull them out of both the concrete and his body…besides, they were helping to keep him from bleeding out. Still, her stomach knotted in worry.

“There’s another one through my leg, the right one,” Steve explained, voice strained. His voice was so raspy. She figured he had broken ribs. She hoped none of them were in danger of puncturing his lungs. “Nat, I think it punctured the femoral artery. It’s bleeding pretty badly, I can tell that much, but the rebar and the rubble on top of it are keeping pressure on it. Still, I don’t—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “Don’t say it. You’re gonna be fine. We’ll get you patched up and then we’ll worry about what we’re gonna do next, okay?”

“Okay.”

Natasha set to work, clearing what rubble she could off his body, then pulling out first aid supplied from her belt, doing the same with his belt. Between the two of them there wasn’t much, enough for a small emergency, but it would have to do until Sam and Wanda could find them. She went over to his left side first, careful to avoid his broken arm. She couldn’t take the rebars out of his body, but she could at least use gauze around the wounds in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood leaking out from the three holes in his body. She used as much gauze as she dared, trying to seal off each wound as best she could. It frustrated her to no end, feeling so helpless. But she moved onto the next task, looking at his broken arm next. This she _could_ do a little more with. Among all the concrete and stone there was also plenty of broken wooden beams lying around them. She found two that were a good length, and then pulled out the cable for her grappling hook, detaching it from her belt.

She looked up at Steve. He was watching as she hovered over his bad arm. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice tight.

Natasha prodded gently along his arm first, trying to find where the break was. Steve made a soft noise, his jaw fluttering as he clenched his teeth, but otherwise he was silent. That changed when Natasha started positioning the bone. He groaned, other hand clenching into a tight fist. Still, he didn’t move, allowing her to work. She tried to go quickly, splinting the arm between the two pieces of wood and tying it tight with the cord. Luckily it had only been broken in one spot and, really, one of his more minor injuries.

When she finished, Natasha went back to sit by his head. And they waited. She didn’t know how long they sat there, how long they’d already been there. A couple hours at least. Sam and Wanda were out there, probably digging for them at the very moment. But they weren’t digging fast enough. They were both exhausted, hungry, dehydrated. Steve was pale, face covered in a thin sheet of sweat, forehead wrinkled just slightly in pain.

It had been a while since she’d put bandages around his wounds, so she checked them, heart dropping when she saw they were already soaked through with blood. And those were just the ones on his shoulder and side. She hadn’t been able to reach his leg, hadn’t dared move the rocks away for fear of taking pressure off the wound and having him bleed out right in front of her. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the helpless sob attempting to escape her chest. Steve seemed to sense her dilemma because he reached out with his good hand. She took it into her own, weaving their fingers together.

“How are you doing?” he asked her. She could see his eyes flick up to her forehead, the blood crusted there.

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Cuts and bruises. Nothing that won’t heal. I’m more worried about you. How are _you_ doing?”

He paused, surely considering lying to her to spare her feelings. He wisely decided against it and gave a soft sigh. “Not great. Serum’s working too slowly. I think we have to prepare for the possibility that—”

“Please,” she interrupted, voice fragile. “Please don’t. We’re going to make it out of here. Sam is looking for us right now.”

“I’m sure he is,” Steve soothed. “But it could be hours before they find us. We have to be realistic. We don’t have food, water. I need medical attention and soon. We just have to accept the fact that I might not make it out of this.”

Natasha looked away from him, tugging her hand away to busy herself with putting the last of their gauze around his injuries. He was using his Captain America voice and it pissed her off to no end because she knew he was right. They needed water, and if Steve didn’t get medical attention soon—

“Nat—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Steve.” Hey, just because he was probably right didn’t mean she had to say that.

“He paused. “Nat—”

“Steve—”

“I just want to ask you something,” he said quickly before she could argue with him again.

“Okay,” she agreed in a small voice, still not looking at him as she fitted more gauze around his wounds.

“Marry me.”

“Natasha’s head shot up, hands trembling though the rest of her was still. “What?”

Steve’s teeth flashed in the din as he grinned, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. He looked at her, and despite the low light, she could see the absolute adoration in his eyes and her heart swelled in her chest, like a flower blooming full in spring.

“Marry me,” he repeated, words impossibly soft, the same tone of voice he used in the middle of the night to tell her that he loved her as he drew patterns on her skin with his fingertips.

The _yes_ hung on the tip of her tongue. Because _yes,_ she wanted to marry him. Any doubt she’d ever had about love and marriage, any doubt she’d ever had about the world knowing that she and Captain America were together, all of it was pushed down by the overwhelming fact that _she loved Steve._

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Steve was saying, grabbing her attention again. “I’d get down on one knee if I could.” He grinned and a short laugh slipped from her mouth. _He’s strong enough to smile,_ she thought, _we can still make it out of this._ That thought, despite how optimistic she was trying to be, sobered her up quickly.

“Steve, I…you—you said it yourself that you might not…might not make it out of here and I…” she stopped, eyes stinging.

Steve grabbed her hand again, and she tried not to think about the dried blood coating both their fingers. “I know. I know my timing is shitty.”

“Understatement of the year,” she muttered.

He smiled. “If we make it out of this…even if we don’t…I just want to know that you’d be my fiancé. That I would’ve gotten to see you walk down the aisle.”

Well _that_ conjured up images that she definitely didn’t want to focus on at a time like this. “Steve, I don’t…”

“You don’t have to say yes,” Steve told her gently, in complete understanding of what she was struggling to do. “I just wanted to know that I asked, at least.”

He squeezed her fingers, grip far weaker than it should’ve been. She looked at the face of the man she loved, the same love reflected in his features as he looked at her hopefully. Natasha inhaled slowly. _Whatever happened to them be damned._ She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. He kissed her back slowly, sweetly.

“Is that a yes?” Steve whispered when she pulled back.

She cupped the side of his face, brushing her thumb over his temple as she tipped forward and touched her forehead to his. “ _Yes._ ”

Steve grinned, but before he could kiss her again she pulled out of his reach. “Just so you know,” she started, half-serious, half-joking, “ _When_ we get out of this, not only am I going to kick your ass for putting me through so much stress, but you owe me a redo proposal. Flowers, wine, fancy dinner, the whole thing.”

Steve laughed, kissed her again, whispered against her lips, “Yes, ma’am.”

Natasha shook her head, only half-heartedly fighting the smile curling up the corners of her mouth. She buried her face in his neck, not caring about the sweat clinging to his skin or the scratch of his uniform collar.

“We’re going to get out of this,” she told him. “Just hang on a little longer, okay?”

He lifted his good hand, wound it around her back, squeezing his fingers into her side comfortingly. “Okay.”

He didn’t say more. She was glad he didn’t. Her optimism could only last so long, and despite her faith that Sam would find them, she didn’t know if she could take it if Steve started making promises he couldn’t keep. The proposal was enough to think about.

They stayed like that for a while. She was tucked against his side, listening to him breathe as he rubbed his hand across her back soothingly. Natasha was sure she could’ve fallen asleep when there was a small bang that echoed throughout the room. She shot up, on her feet in seconds, Steve straining his neck, trying to see as best he could from his position on the floor.

“You see anything?” he asked.

Natasha listened intently, eyes scanning the room. The noise had sounded like a rock being knocked loose from the rubble piled high on top of them…But another minute passed and there was nothing. Her heart fell. “No, I—”

Another crash sounded and a sliver of light sliced into the room. Natasha inhaled sharply, moving toward the crack in the debris that had emerged. But then she stopped, looking back at Steve. With even the little bit of extra light that had flooded into the room, she could see how bad he really looked. Her tiny flashlight hadn’t done nearly well enough to highlight the severity of his injuries. She knelt by him again, his gaze suddenly unfocused.

“Steve, hey. Hey, stay with me, okay?” her voice trembled with worry, but also anticipation of being found. “Just stay with me.”

It took him a few seconds to focus on her face, but he smiled when he did. “I’m fine.” His skin was shining with sweat, breathing seemingly weaker than it had just a minute before. “Go, check it out. I’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

She nodded and gave his hand a quick squeeze before getting to her feet. She picked her way carefully over to where the crack of light had appeared, about fifty feet from where Steve lay, the sound of shifting rubble getting louder the closer she got.

“Hello? Sam?” she shouted, standing just to the side of the crack, trying to see through the light coming through. Suddenly the noise stopped and she could hear voices, though she was unable to make out what they were saying.

“Nat?”

Natasha nearly sobbed with relief, her shoulders sagging as if a huge weight had just been lifted off them. “Yeah, it’s me, Sam!”

She could only see shadows of movement above, but Sam’s voice sounded clear enough in response, “We’re coming down to get you guys. Just hang on a little longer, okay?”

“You need to hurry, Sam. And we need a med evac ready.”

“Are you okay?” Sam’s voice was tight with worry.

“I’m fine, but Steve, he…he’s not doing great.” She sounded a lot stronger than she felt.

A pause from above. “Okay, Nat, stay with him. Make sure you’re a safe distance away. We’re going to break through.”

She could hear Sam giving order—she heard Wanda’s name, the name of several SHIELD agents, possibly even Stark’s name, but she didn’t have too much time to dwell on it as she headed back over to Steve’s side. She crouched down, about to tell Steve that Sam was coming for them when she noticed that his eyes were closed. Panic rushed in, drowning any relief she’d felt at being rescued, filled up her chest, making it tight, hard to breathe.

“Steve? _Steve?_ Steve, _wake up._ ” She prodded his shoulder gently. He didn’t move. Natasha shifted into autopilot, bringing her training to the surface and pushing down everything else. She pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse, leaning over him, ear close to his mouth to check for breathing. She counted out ten seconds, keeping an eye on his chest. That ten seconds was torture and she had to fight especially hard to keep her emotions under check as she began CPR.

“Come on, Steve, don’t do this to me,” she whispered, pumping her hands against his chest. His eyes were still closed and hers were burning, throat tight. “Come on, Steve, please, _please,_ wake up.”

She finished the first thirty compressions, leaned over, sealed his airway, and delivered two breaths. No response from him and she went back to doing compressions as rubble crashed and fell behind her, light flooding into the ruined basement as Sam and the others broke through.

“Come on, Steve!” she pleaded, tears flowing freely now. “ _Don’t do this to me._ Please wake up. We’re going to get married, remember? We’re going to get married so you have to wake up, _please, Steve, wake up!_ ”

She could hear footsteps behind her, the hum of and Iron Man suit—so Sam had called Tony—and somewhere in the back of her mind she registered that Sam and the others, with a medical team by their side, were making their way over to her and Steve.

“Steve, come on! Please, Steve, wake up! _Wake up, Steve…wake up…_ ”

 

 

           


	13. The Proposal (Pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this took longer than I wanted to get posted, so I'm really sorry about that! But alas, finals got in the way, and then after I flew back home I went out of town again for the weekend and it's been crazy. But I'm back, and will hopefully be updating again shortly!
> 
> Just as a reminder, this is the second part to the previous chapter: The Proposal (Pt. 1). Prompt was from SpiritFeather19524 (FF). SpiritFeather19524 also requested the wedding, but I'll probably save that one for a little later, so yeah. Tony and Steve are also on good terms in this. Unlike Civil War, which I'm still in pain over. Also, for the ring, I realize it was the Depression and Steve's mom may not even have had a ring, but I'd like to think that she did, and just kinda made up what it would look like based off pics I looked up on google about rings from the 40s. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve was fairly surprised when he woke up because he was pretty sure he was dead.

He blinked his eyes against white hospital light, harsh after so long spent buried in that destroyed building. His mouth was dry, head heavy. He didn’t even have to look down to know he was covered in bandages. He tried to shift in bed and immediately regretted the decision when his wounds flared up in blinding pain. He gasped, alerting another person in the room to his consciousness.

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy, man. You’re safe. You’re back in the infirmary on base.”

Steve settled back against the pillows again. His vision took another second to focus, and when it did his gaze settled on— “Sam.”

His friend grinned with relief. “It’s good to see you awake. We were all pretty worried there for a while.”

“H…how long was I out?” Steve’s tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, speech clumsy.

Sam reseated himself in the chair beside Steve’s bed. “Only two days. The first couple hours after we brought you in were rough. The serum was already working a little slow, and you lost a lot of blood, so you crashed again after we got you back here. Not including, of course, when your heart stopped as we were rescuing you guys.”

Steve took a minute to process the information Sam had given him, trying to gather his thoughts and piece together what had happened.

“Your suit did a pretty good job of protecting you, but you have a couple broken ribs,” Sam went on, “Luckily none of them punctured your lungs. Your arm’s broken. Obviously the rebar holes through your side and shoulder. The one through your leg was the worst. It almost completely severed the femoral artery. It was hell getting you out of there. The rebar and the concrete pinning your leg down helped keep pressure on the wound. Saved your life. Though, I’m glad I called Tony. Took the leg off his suit and put it on yours, which kept the pressure on and acted as a tourniquet while we brought you back to base. Other than that, you’ve got about a million cuts and bruises. But you’re alive.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Is Tony here now?”

“No. He’s upstairs with the others doing training sessions with those new agents we were working with. I’m sure he’ll be back down here later. He was pretty worried when we found you, so he’ll be glad to see you up.”

“Natasha?”

Sam gave him a small smile. “She’s fine. She refused to leave your side. Tony and I finally convinced her to go home and shower and change. She’s gonna be _pissed_ that you woke up without her here.”

Steve chuckled, stopping short when his chest flared up in pain.

“Here,” Sam said, handing Steve a glass of water. He took it in his good hand, swallowing small mouthfuls until he’d downed the whole glass.

“Thank you,” he told his friend, setting the glass down. “For getting us out of there, I mean. You and Tony both.”

Sam sighed softly. “You don’t have to thank me, man. You would’ve done the same for me.”

“Still, thank you. There was a good chance we were dead and you still came after us.”

Sam shrugged, giving a small laugh. “I knew it’d take more than a little explosion and a building collapsing to stop Captain America. Besides, Tony and I can’t really take all the credit. Wanda was a huge help. She had a feeling. Said she could sense you. She was determined to get you guys out. She’s a tough kid. She’d still be here, too, if I hadn’t told her to head home with Nat to get some rest.”

Steve was about to thank Sam again when Natasha stepped into the room, two coffees in hand. Her eyes locked on him instantly, shoulders sagging slightly in relief when she saw that he was awake.

“I thought I told you to take a few hours?” Sam told Natasha teasingly, standing up and grabbing one of the coffees from her.

“I was gone for—” glancing at her watch, “fifty-three minutes. That’s almost an hour. I had a feeling this idiot would wake up the second I left. I was right.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a laugh. “No argument there. I’m gonna go help Tony. Just call if you need anything.”

Sam gave Natasha a quick kiss on the cheek and Steve gave him one more grateful nod before his friend headed out, shutting the door behind him.

“So,” Steve said after a beat of silence, “how much trouble am I in?”

Natasha didn’t answer. Instead, Steve tracked her movements as she walked over to his bed and had barely set her coffee down before her hands were cupping his face gently, mouth pressed against his. His chest hurt and it was a little hard to breathe, but Steve didn’t care. He lifted his good hand, fingers skimming across Natasha’s cheek as she kissed him harder, more desperately.

“Does this mean I’m off the hook?” he asked in a whisper when she pulled back, seating herself in the chair Sam had vacated.

“No, I’m still gonna kick your ass when you’re healed,” she promised and he smiled. Her features softened. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well let you just bleed to death, now could I? Especially after your dumb stunt—”

“You would have died if I hadn’t thrown the shield to you,” Steve cut her off, taking a breath and slowing down when he realized how harsh his words sounded. “I wasn’t going to make it to you in time. I figured, by throwing the shield to you, I would still have a chance of surviving at least.”

“I know,” Natasha said softly, taking his good hand in between hers, careful around the IV. “I just worry, you know? For a while I wasn’t sure if we’d be found and then Sam _did_ come and your heart stopped and I just…”

“I’m sorry.” Steve squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry for worrying you, for almost dying, and that proposal—” he stopped immediately as Natasha’s eyes widened, her fingers slackening around his.

“ _Oh,_ ” Steve balked. “Oh, god. Nat…Did I make that up? I mean I know my heart stopped and everything and I lost a lot of blood, but I _swear_ I was conscious for that—”

“Steve, Steve, slow down, it’s okay.” Natasha pulled one of her hands away and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the palest pink blush creeping into her cheeks like it did when she was _really_ embarrassed. So almost never. “I’m sorry. I…you just caught me off guard is all. I actually…I actually wasn’t sure _if_ you remembered or not so I didn’t want to bring it up in case you didn’t remember, or maybe you _did_ remember but just regretted proposing and I—”

Steve laughed. “Okay, now you’re the one rambling.”

Natasha laughed too and Steve smiled wider. She exhaled and looked up at him from under her lashes, nothing but affection in her eyes.

“If I hadn’t remembered would you have been disappointed?” Steve asked shyly.

Natasha bit her lip. Then she nodded. “Yeah, a little.”

That lifted a weight off Steve’s chest, and it felt like he could breathe a little easier. He smiled at her. He hadn’t really meant to let the topic of the proposal slip out like it had, because he actually hadn’t been sure how she actually felt about it, but to know that she’d been just as unsure about bringing it up was a relief.

“So, it’s still a yes?” Steve asked.

She smiled and leaned over to kiss him softly once, then twice. “Yes. Definitely a yes.”

-:-

Two months later, Steve was completely healed but there hadn’t been much talk of a wedding. The proposal or said wedding actually hadn’t been on Natasha’s mind much at all lately. She’d either been helping with Steve’s rehabilitation as he healed, off on missions, or helping train new recruits and agents. She’d actually just left the base after doing the latter, and she was exhausted and a little disappointed that Steve wouldn’t be waiting for her at their apartment. But he was out on assignment with Sam and wasn’t due back for another three days.

Which is why it was so much of a surprise when she walked into their apartment to find the lights on. She was about to draw her gun when she smelled food, and her gut told her there was no real threat. Still, she shut the door quietly, and made her way just as silently around the corner, mouth falling open in surprise when she saw that their small dining room table had been laid out with a tablecloth, their nice wine glasses, and a delicious looking meal of pasta and fresh vegetables. There were even fresh flowers in a vase at the center of the table. Steve was there, back to her as he poured wine into the glasses. He was wearing dark jeans and a blue button down. One of her favorites of his because it brought out the color in his eyes.

“What’s all this?” Natasha asked.

Steve turned, his eyes widening just so to show that she’d startled him. But then his expression softened and he gave her an easy smile as he set the wine bottle down.

“I thought you were supposed to be gone for a few more days?” Natasha said when Steve didn’t answer.

“Well,” he started, stepping over to her and taking her bag and jacket from her and hanging them up by the door. He came back into the room, arms circling around her waist in order to pull her closer. “I _may_ have exaggerated a little on the timetable of the mission in order to surprise you.”

“With dinner?” Natasha, though she appreciated the gesture, was still a little confused as to why he put this much effort in.

Steve shrugged, a slyness to his expression that matched the twinkle in his eyes. “Well, you _did_ ask for a redo proposal, complete with flowers and wine and a fancy dinner.”

Natasha blanked for a moment, taking a second to process his words before remembering what she’d said to him when they’d been buried underground all those weeks ago when he’d first proposed.

“ _Steve_ ,” she breathed after a moment, as he let go of her hands and took a step back. “I was only half-serious, you know that right?”

He laughed. “Yeah, but I still owe you a real proposal. And with everything that’s been going on, there really hasn’t been time, but I thought you should at least get a ring.”

A ring. God, Natasha hadn’t even thought about that. They’d all been so busy…her heart fluttered in her chest, heat rising in her face as she realized she was a little nervous. A ring made this official. She loved Steve, of course, and she’d said yes to his proposal, but a _ring._ A ring was a weight and a declaration to the whole world that she was taken. Before she could decide if she was truly ready for that, Steve pulled a little box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a delicate ring as he got down on one knee.

Steve looked up at her with those impossible baby blues, nothing but love reflected in their depths. “Natasha Romanoff,” he started. Paused. Like just saying her name was enough to leave him breathless. He swallowed and she realized he might be just as nervous as she was. “Nat, I don’t know we got to where we are now, but I know that you are one of the most real and constant things in my life since I woke up from the ice. You are so strong and smart and beautiful and I want to spend the rest of my life getting to explore every part of you. Even our bad stuff. I want all of it. So, Natasha, will you do me the incredible honor of marrying me?”

Natasha didn’t know when she started crying, but she could feel the wetness on her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away and nodded. “ _Yes._ ” She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

Steve smiled with a little bit of relief as if she hadn’t already agreed to marry him. Still, she understood. As Steve stood and slipped the ring on her finger, it felt like the first and only proposal. Steve held her hands in his, grazing his thumb over the ring that was now firmly in place on her finger.

“I don’t have my mother’s original ring, but I remember what it looked like so I had a replica made,” he explained softly, almost sheepishly, keeping his eyes on the ring. “I know it’s small, and if you really don’t like it I can get you something else…”

“It’s perfect, Steve. Really,” Natasha told him, meeting his gaze before looking back down at the ring for a moment. It was a simple gold band with a small square cut diamond in the center, a smaller diamond on either side. The stones twinkled in the light and Natasha realized that she had absolutely nothing to be nervous about. The ring was right where it belonged. “I love it.”

Then she tilted her head up and kissed him. She could feel him smile against her lips, hardly able to get in another kiss he was so happy.

“I love you,” she said against his mouth, twining their fingers together, bumping the ring against his skin.

“I love you, too.” Steve kissed her again, other arm wrapped around her tight. “Does my redo pass the test? Am I off the hook?”

Natasha laughed as he smiled big. “Yeah, yeah you are. Though, I never got to kick your ass for being dumb and self-sacrificing.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but his expression told her he was amused. “Well, I’m sure we’d have plenty of time tomorrow to find our way into the ring…”

Natasha gave him a look. “I’m sensing an _or_ here…”

Steve gave her a positively devious grin. “ _Or_ we do have a bedroom just down the hall and,” he leaned down close to her ear, hands moving to slide along her waist, up underneath the back of her shirt, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you wear nothing but that ring.”

Yeah, that did things to her. Natasha’s heart beat fast against her ribcage. Any thought of dinner and wine, and even her promise to kick his butt or why she’d even gotten mad at him in the first place all those months ago disappeared from her mind as Steve lifted her up and carried her to their room, mouth pressed firmly against hers.

Steve laid her down and made good on his promise. He took his time, exploring every inch of her, every scar, every mark. Everything beautiful and everything she’d once thought of as ugly. And when they were finished, lying tangled up in each other, fingers intertwined, Natasha looked at her ring and wondered how in the world she got so lucky.

 


	14. Distracted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This time with a Wanda/Vision post Civil War drabble because my friend was having some serious ScarletVision feels after the movie. So, minor spoilers for Civil War. Nothing too major, but keep in mind that it's probably better to have seen the movie. Haven't really written for either Wanda or Vision before but I think it went ok? I don't know, but let me know if you guys want more drabbles with these two, or really any pairing/character in future chapters!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Also, I kinda assumed Vision couldn't cry? If I am wrong and you're a little more well-versed in the comics, let me know and I would be happy to change that!)

“How are you doing?” Steve asked her as he removed that god-awful straight jacket Ross had ordered her to be put in.

Wanda shook her arms out, glad for them to be free again. “I’m okay.”

Steve smiled at her comfortingly, giving her arm a quick squeeze. “We better get out of here,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear.

Wanda nodded, falling back to Clint’s side as she followed Steve, Sam, and Scott out. Steve’s extraction plan worked without a hitch, and soon enough they were on a quinjet out of that terrible prison, the jet cloaked so they couldn’t be tracked. Clint was flying, Scott up front with him chatting away. Steve was catching Sam up so Wanda buckled herself in the back, leaning her head back against the cool metal interior, closing her eyes. She tried not to dwell on Nigeria and the death of the Wakandans, tried not to think about the fight that had taken place between them and the other Avengers, and _definitely_ tried not to think about Vision.

 _What do you want?_ Is what she’d asked him, back on base, not fully expecting the answer he’d given her. _For people to see you. As I do._

Wanda flexed her fingers. In the last year since Steve and Nat had put the Avengers team together, Wanda had learned so much about her powers, learned to control them and master them. The power itself as well as the control she had over that power was exhilarating. It still scared her sometimes, though. Like in Nigeria. She hadn’t meant to hurt those people…she’d never meant to hurt anyone. Her friends understood that, but Vision especially so. He always looked at her and saw _her_ , not the power she wielded. Which is why she still carried his words with her, echoing in the back of her mind like the afterimages of one of her visions.

It had hurt when Vision had chosen Tony’s side. It had hurt even more to have to use her power against him, but he’d given her no choice. Still, despite the small surge of pride she’d felt at being able to use her powers against someone as powerful as Vision, she’d hated using that power against him, hated hurting him, especially when he’d always been so kind to her, so _accepting_.

She wondered where he was now…what he was doing…he’d nearly given up everything for her. Rhodey got hurt because Vis had been distracted, unfocused, concerned, because of _her._ it was foolish of him, really, to have allowed himself to be so inattentive to all that was going on around them, so very _human_ , to put a better word to it. She wanted to be angry at him for that, for endangering their friends, but a small part of her warmed at the thought of him caring so much about her.

Her eyes burned and she squeezed them tighter, clenching her hands into fists. So much had happened in the last few days, so much had gone _wrong._ She would give anything to have Pietro there with her, to hug her and guide her, give her the advice she so desperately needed to hear. To tell her what to do about Vision. The whole team had been so great to her since Sokovia, but especially Vision. And now they were all fugitives, on the run, and if she saw Vision he’d have to do the right thing and turn her in.

Which is why it was so surprising when, a few days later, he came to her. Steve and Sam had gone with T’Challa, presumably to somewhere in Wakanda but Steve hadn’t given the rest of them a specific location because he’d wanted as few people to know as possible as to where they were taking Bucky. So Clint had taken them to one of his old safe-houses. Clint was currently in the bedroom, checking in with Steve for the night. Scott was passed out on the couch. And Wanda was on watch, seated on a chair by the door.

If she wasn’t so used to his presence, the flicker in the corner of her eye as he passed through solid objects, she probably would’ve taken a lot longer to notice him. Still, she was surprised, at first just thinking it to be a figment of her imagination.

“Vis,” she breathed as she stood, her shock nearly rendering her speechless. She glanced around, eyes darting to the door, wondering if he had brought back-up.

He raised his hands in surrender. “You have no need to worry, Wanda. I came here alone.” He paused. “And of my own volition.”

Wanda relaxed a little, but not completely, all her training from Steve, Natasha, and the others over the past year making her cautious. Still, she couldn’t deny that she was incredibly happy to see him. She had to resist the urge to run into his arms.

“What are you doing here, Vis?” she asked quietly, hyper-aware of the fact that Scott was only twenty feet away and Clint was just in the other room.

“I came to see you.” He spoke slowly, stepping forward—more like drifting, actually—in that silent way of his. His cape fluttered soundlessly behind him.

“Do the others know you’re here? Are you going to tell Ross? Tony?”

 “No, Wanda. I mean you no harm.”

“And what about Steve, and the others?”

Vision shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt any of you. I’ve…I’ve hurt enough people already.”

 _Rhodey. He means Rhodey._ Wanda’s shoulders sagged. _Of course_ he didn’t want to hurt anyone else. They were all friends. Maybe not on the best of terms right now, but Wanda knew, somehow, that they would all make up. The Avengers would band together again. The world would need them again. It wouldn’t be the same as before, but they weren’t enemies, they didn’t want to fight each other. Especially when there were so many other worse enemies out there.

Wanda exhaled slowly, gave a nod in understanding.

“I simply came to check on you,” Vis said, looking sheepish, somehow. “I won’t tell the others where you are, you have my word. I was…worried. I wanted to see you in person, to see how you’re doing.”

Wanda rubbed a hand up and down her arm, shuffling on her feet. “I’m all right,” she said slowly. “How are you? The others?”

“They’re fine. Recovering. As for myself, I am well. Though, I’m finding myself to be burdened with emotion. I believe humans call it guilt.” There was the tiniest twitch of his lips and Wanda imagined he would cry if he could.

“ _Vis,_ ” Wanda said his name as she exhaled, instinctively stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. His body was solid, familiar, a rock against her usual tide. Not completely human, nor completely robot. He was unique, something utterly original. He froze as she touched him, at first unsure what to do. Then, slowly, cautiously, he wrapped his wound his arms around her shorter frame as she buried her face in his chest. Being in his arms was the most natural thing in the world. Wanda only regretted that she would soon have to let go.

And she did. It was hard pulling back, but she stepped out of the circle of his arms, instantly missing the comfort. “You should go,” she told him quietly, still aware that Clint or Scott could hear them. “I don’t want you to get caught.”

“Wanda, I—” he stopped himself from saying whatever it was he was going to say, and Wanda wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. “You have my word that I will not give your location up to the others. And, not matter the current circumstances, if you need anything, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call. You are…a dear friend. Our differences of opinion should not change that.”

Wanda found herself smiling. “I will keep that in mind.”

Vision took a step back, his form already blurring just slightly around the edges. “Take care, Wanda.”

“You too, Vis. And please, don’t follow us. Not now. Not until things are better.”

“Do you believe it will get better?”

“I have to.”

Vision paused, considering. “In that case, I suppose I must have a little faith as well.”

He gave her one last lingering look before stepping through the wall and disappearing. A few minutes passed and she reached out with her mind to see if he was truly gone, and felt no trace of his presence. Her heart dropped a little, but she knew it was for the best. Until the situation calmed, they were technically on opposite sides. And though it made her sad to think about ow long it might be until she saw him again, maybe it was for the best. Because whether or not she admitted it out loud, he distracted her too.

           


	15. Cross My Heart and Hope To Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking a million years to update. Again. I've been so bad about this, I know. I've been writing a lot, it's just I've been starting a lot and not finishing a lot of things. It's really bad. Plus, I've been working a full-time overnight job and so I sleep a lot during the day. 
> 
> But anyway! Back with a romanogers drabble! This is just one I came up with. Because apparently angst works best for getting me out of writing slumps. 
> 
> Thank you guys for your patience with my sporadic updates!
> 
> Enjoy!

            Natasha was double-checking her weapons as Steve walked over to her. He’d just given his last round of orders to the team, the quinjet slowing as they approached the drop-site—a high rise building in the city that had been bought out by Hydra. They’d put a lot of money into adding some kind of lab. To build what, they didn’t know, but they were about to find out.

            “Hey,” Steve said as he approached.

            “Hey.” She smiled softly at him as he stopped less than a foot in front of her, hands sliding down her forearms. “What’s up?”

            He looked up at her from under his lashes. “Just wanted to tell you to be careful.”

            Natasha very nearly rolled her eyes. “I’m always careful, Steve—”

            “I know, I know,” he said quickly, before taking a breath. “We just don’t know entirely what we’re walking into. We don’t know what they’ve cooked up in there, or how many of them there are, I just…watch your back.”

            “I will. And if not, that’s why I’ve got Wanda and Pietro with me. I’ll be fine, Steve. I promise. Cross my heart to die and all that.”

            “Maybe not that last part, though,” Steve pointed out.

            She gave a little laugh. “I’m kidding. Now stop worrying and kiss me already.”

            Steve smiled, a breathy chuckle escaping past his lips before he leaned down and did as she’d requested. As he pulled back Steve touched his forehead briefly to hers.

            “I love you,” he whispered.

            “I love you, too,” she responded just as quietly, no teasing in her voice this time. She gave him one last chaste kiss, then gave him a quick smile. “Let’s go kick down Hydra’s front door.”

            Now, roughly seventeen minutes after their entry into the building Natasha was starting to think that the universe had a really sick fucking sense of humor. _Cross my heart and hope to die._ Yeah, that was just about the dumbest thing she could’ve said. Steve was going to be _pissed._

            Natasha took another shaky breath, dropping her empty pistol from her hand. Her knees hit the floor next. She tried to put a hand out to steady her collapse, but her reflexes were already slow, sluggish, and she fell into a heap on the floor, other hand pressed to the wounds in her abdomen. She laid back as she tried to staunch the bleeding. The tile floor was cool against her heated body. _Think, Natasha, think!_ She had to think—she had to—she….her gun. She needed a weapon. Turning her head was an effort, but she spotted her other gun on the floor a few feet away, right where it had landed when a Hydra brute had knocked it from her grip.

            She took a steadying breath, moving slowly into a half sitting position so she could more easily crawl across the floor. She didn’t dare look behind her at the smears of blood she was leaving. And, _god_ , she wanted to cry every inch of the way. The hand pressed to her abdomen was so slicked with blood, sliding against the material of her suit, and she could only feel more blood pooling between her fingers as she tried to press harder in an effort to keep pressure on the wounds. She bit back a sob, tears pricking in her eyes. It was so close, she could make it…. _she could make it._ She was Natasha Romanoff and if more enemies came through the door, she would have a gun in her hand, ready to go down fighting. Finally— _finally_ —she was in reaching distance, and she stretched her fingers out to grab the handle of her gun. Her grip was weak, slippery with blood, but she still felt better having the weight of the gun in her hand.  

            She coughed, the sound thick in her throat. Blood coated her tongue. The coppery scent of it was thick in the air, thick in her mouth. _There was so much blood_. She could practically feel the life draining out of her. She’d been hurt before, of course. She’d been shot many times. But this was different. There were three gunshots in her torso. And the amount of blood on her suit and her hands and the floor was _not_ a good sign. As far as she could tell, though, it was all red. No black blood. And she was pretty sure she had no broken ribs, no punctured lungs. That was all good. But those were the only good signs she could pull together from the situation.

            Natasha moved a little farther so she could lean up against the wall, and even the little bit of movement exhausting her. She just wanted to close her eyes, but she forced herself to stay awake. She bit her lip, eyes burning. _She never should have separated from the others._ But she’d seen a few Hydra soldiers making their way into the office space she was in now, so she’d told Wanda and Pietro to continue to their assigned position. Unfortunately for her, the two Hydra members she’d followed had been joined by half a dozen others. She’d thought she’d had them all, too, until one had popped up from where he’d been hiding and emptied three rounds into her body before she put him down. Hydra had activated a jamming device sometime during the fighting, so she couldn’t call her team for back-up then, and she couldn’t call them now. She was alone, bleeding— _dying_ —surrounded by the bodies of Hydra soldiers, and all she wanted to do was cry.

            She tried to shove down her panic. Wanda and Pietro knew where she was, and pretty soon, they would start to wonder what had happened to her. She just had to hold on a little longer, she had to see Steve. Then again, maybe it was better his last memory of her be of their kiss on the quinjet. Natasha bit back another sob. That wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to bleed out here, alone, but she was hurting and her eyes were so, _so_ heavy—

            Her head snapped up when she heard the door burst open. She was still on the floor, near the middle of the room, and there were several tables and rows of bullet-ridden computer monitors obstructing her view. Swallowing past the blood in her mouth, she pressed her one hand to her wounds a little harder and gripped her gun. Footsteps were heading her way, several sets of them. She would _not_ go down without a fight—

            “ _Natasha._ ”

            Natasha dropped her gun immediately, the tears flowing freely now as Steve appeared in front of her. The others—Wanda, Pietro, Sam, and Bucky—were quick to follow, but they stayed back when they saw the state she was in, giving her and Steve some space.

            “Natasha,” Steve said her name again, taking off his helmet and then dropping to his knees in front of her as he looked her over and seemed to realize the weight of the situation. All the color vanished from his face. “ _Oh, god, Nat._ ”

            “ _Steve,_ ” she whispered, letting out a little cry as he put his hands over the one of her abdomen, putting more pressure on the bullet wounds.

            His forehead creased in worry, though she could tell he was trying to hold back, stay calm. _For her._

            “Steve, it was my decision. I told Wanda and Pietro—”

            “Hey, hey, shh, _shh,_ ” Steve murmured, touching his forehead to hers like he did in the quinjet. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. Just hang on, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here. We got the signal back. Hill’s on her way with extraction now.”

            He sat back, lifting a bloodstained hand to her cheek. She leaned into his touch, nodding as a few more tears slipped down her cheeks.

            “You know,” Steve whispered, “when you said ‘cross my heart and hope to die’, you weren’t supposed to take that _literally_.”

            Natasha couldn’t help it. She gave a little laugh, relishing in the fact that Steve smiled a little too. But his eyes were shining too. He swallowed hard, his hand still on her cheek, thumb idly stroking, surely smearing blood, but she didn’t care. He was in there, in front of her, and that was all that mattered.

            “Hill, how long until extraction?” Sam said quietly. Though he’d been trying to be discreet, everyone was listening now. Steve kept his eyes on hers as they waited for Hill’s response.

            “ _Five minutes. Maybe seven._ ”

            That only made everyone all the more tense. “You have medical on board?”

            There was a slightly longer pause from Hill’s end. “ _Yeah, I’ve got a team on board. Who is it?_ ”

            “Natasha,” Steve responded into his own comm before Sam could. Natasha hated how tight his voice was, so different from the gentleness of his hand as he placed it back against her cheek, as he ran his fingers through her hair.

            “ _Got it,_ ” Maria said, and Natasha could imagine that her friend was pushing the quinjet’s engines as hard as she could.

            Quiet fell over their little group again. Sam and Bucky were staying back, checking the doors every once in a while, even though the building was clear. Pietro was pacing, anxious, switching between a normal pace and his super-speed, jaw tight as he muttered in Sokovian.

             Natasha coughed then, hating the taste of fresh blood in her mouth. Steve moved his hand from her cheek to grip her free one, tangling his fingers in hers.

            “Wanda,” Steve said lowly, voice strained. Natasha wished she could say something to comfort him, but they both knew how serious it was. “A little help here, kid.”

            Wanda didn’t hesitate to make her way over. She kneeled in front of Natasha, same as Steve, and put her hands out, red energy hovering above her abdomen. Natasha felt invisible pressure press down against her wounds. She gasped softly, looking up at Wanda, trying to convey through her eyes that what happened to her wasn’t her fault. Wanda nodded, like she understood.

            “You can both take your hands away. I’ve got it,” Wanda said, concentrating on keep her energy directed at Natasha’s wounds.

            Steve let go, and Natasha let her hand drop from her stomach, not realizing how tiring it had been just to hold it there that long. Still, though she was tired, she wasn’t in as much pain as before. She wondered if Wanda had anything to do with that, making her feel more at ease. She reached up with her now free hand and touched her fingers briefly to Steve’s jaw, leaving little imprints of blood against his skin. Something akin to peace washed over Natasha, even as a few silent tears slipped and fell down Steve’s cheeks.

            “Nat, hey, keep your eyes open, okay?” he whispered. _Pleaded_. Behind all the worry and fear there was so much love in his eyes, and Natasha tried, struggled to hold onto that. She was just _so damn tired._ “Come on, Nat, sweetheart, stay with me. Please, _please,_ just hold on a little longer—”

            “Steve, Hill’s here! Med Evac is on their way down now—”

            “We’re gonna get you out of here, Nat.” Steve tried for a smile, but it was overshadowed by the trembling of his fingers in her own. Natasha never thought she’d see that, not when his hands were always so strong, steady, capable.

            “I love you,” she told him, voice barely audible. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw Wanda choke back a sob.

            Steve swallowed, eyes shining with fresh tears. “I love you, too. Which is why you’ve got to hang on. _Please_ , _Nat._ You can do it. You’re so strong. Just hold on. Just a little longer. Nat…”

            The last thing Natasha heard was Steve’s voice and the sound of footsteps coming their way before her eyes fluttered. She saw a brief flash of red, then everything went black.

-:-

            “Captain Rogers I need you to step away, please—”

            “She’s dying!”

            “I am well aware of that, Captain, but I need you to step back and let us do our jobs, please—”

            “Doctor Fields, she needs blood, _now_ —”

            “ _Dammit_. Where’s Doctor Cho—”

            “I’m here. Everybody with me. You too, Steve.”

            “Helen, are you really sure that’s wise? Captain Rogers—”

            “May be the only one that can save her. Your blood type, Steve? _Steve?_ Type O, correct?”

            “Y-Yes. You can save her?”

            “I’m sure as hell going to try. But she needs an immediate blood transfusion. Prep them both—”

            “Doctor Cho, she’s crashing!”

            “ _Shit._ Okay, everyone, Code Blue let’s move it! I need Captain Rogers prepped for a blood transfusion, and somebody get that defibrillator charged _now_ —”

            “ _Natasha_ —”

            “We’re going to do everything to save her, Steve, I promise—”

            “Defibrillator charged, Doctor Cho!”

            “All right, everyone, _clear!_ ”

            “Come on, Nat.”

            “Again! _Clear!_ ”

            “ _Come on, Nat_ —”

            “Again! Come on, Natasha, don’t do this to us—”

            “Come on, Natasha, _come on_. Come back to me. _Come back to me_ …”

-:-

            Natasha woke easier than she thought she would. Well, she hadn’t expected to wake up _at all_ , but now that she had, she was a little surprised. It took only a few seconds after opening her eyes to put together that she was in a hospital room. The white lights, white walls and ceiling, white _everything_ , really, the beep of monitors, the sterile scent, all of it very familiar. The only thing out of place was—

            “ _Steve_ ,” she whispered, voice scratchy, turning her head far enough to see him sitting in a padded chair by her bed, sketch book in his lap. She furrowed her brows as she realized he was still in his uniform pants, his top half stripped down to just his gray under armor shirt. He had a duffle bag by his feet. Someone must have brought it to him, but he clearly hadn’t bothered to change. Or shower, for that matter, considering he was still covered in dirt and blood from their mission. The last thing she noticed was a crisp white bandage at the crook of his elbow.

            “ _Hey,_ ” he breathed when he heard her voice, setting his sketchbook down as he scooted his chair closer to her bed. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

            “Significantly less dead,” she replied, clearing her throat, “You’re still in your uniform. How long was I out?”

            “Minus the hours your surgery took, only a day. Considering you were basically dead when we brought you in, that’s pretty good. I didn’t want to leave until you woke up.” As he spoke, Steve handed her a glass of water, which she gratefully took, taking slow sips.

            “I _should_ be dead,” she said, more softly than she’d intended as she set her water down.

            Steve’s brow creased and he took a breath. His voice was just as soft as hers when he spoke, “You were for a minute there. After the blood transfusion, you already started showing signs of improvement. Helen said it was probably what saved your life.”

            Natasha’s gaze caught on the bandage on his arm again. “Your blood?”

            Steve nodded, corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile. “Type O blood.”

            Natasha actually _did_ smile. She couldn’t help it, ignoring the ache in her body when she gave a little chuckle. “Of course _Captain America_ would be a universal donor.”

            Steve grinned. “I’m just glad I was there. The serum in my blood must’ve had some kind of healing effect on you. Helen thought it might work even before we tried it. We’ve been running those tests, you know, to try and find out the limits—if any—of the serum. We’re keeping it under wraps, though. The last thing we need is for people to find out that Captain America’s blood has healing properties.”

            Natasha nodded in agreement. “Probably for the best.”

            Steve reached over then and touched his fingers lightly to her cheek, running them along the underside of her jaw. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Nat.”

            She smiled softly at him, bringing her hand up to cover his. “Me too. I’m sorry about—”

            “Hey,” Steve soothed softly, joining their hands more firmly together, smoothing his thumb over her skin. “It’s not your fault. I know that. You can take care of yourself, but there was no way you could’ve known that they would ambush you like that.”

            “There’s always that one asshole who hides,” Natasha muttered.    

            Steve chuckled softly. _God_ , he was beautiful. Even with dried blood— _her blood_ —and dirt streaked across his face, his blue eyes were bright, still shining in relief.

            “Wanda and Pietro?” Natasha asked, Wanda’s worried face flashing through her mind.

            “They’re fine,” Steve assured her. “They’ll be glad to hear you’re awake. Wanda did good. She kept pressure on your wounds until we got to the hospital. I had her stay back. They didn’t even want to let me in with you, so they certainly weren’t going to let her in too. Sam and Bucky took them back to the facility.”

            Natasha nodded, leaning her head back against her pillows. Even talking for a little bit had drained her. Steve squeezed her hand, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You should get some sleep,” he told her. “Whatever my blood did for you, you’ve still got a long recovery.”

            Natasha groaned. “Yeah, don’t remind me.”

            Steve pinched his lips together, giving her a look. Natasha lifted her head.

            “What?” she demanded.

            “You’re not gonna like it,” Steve told her.

            “Too bad. Tell me.”

            “Well,” Steve started slowly. “Helen said you’ll get discharged at the end of the week, but then you still have another three to five weeks of recovery time. Including physical therapy.”

            Natasha just _stared_ at him for a moment. There was _no way_ —she would go out her _mind_ if she had to sit on her ass for that long. “You’re kidding, right?”

            “Nope. No missions. Nothing physical that can put too much strain on your body. You were shot _three times_ , Natasha.”

            “I’m fine!” she protested.

            Steve arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Have you even tried moving?”

            Natasha clenched her jaw. He had a point there. She was incredibly sore, pretty much everywhere, and she could tell all that without having barely twitched a muscle. “No. But—”

            “But nothing,” Steve practically laughed. “Doctor’s orders.”

            Natasha stifled another groan. Before she could feel too angry about it, though, Steve leaned forward and kissed her gently. A little noise of surprise escaped her throat, but then she was kissing him back. She’d had a moment, back in that building when she’d been bleeding out, where she wasn’t sure if she’d get to do this again. She was so glad she didn’t have to know what it was like not to be able to kiss him or touch him or love him ever again. Steve seemed to feel that as well, because despite the ache in every inch of her body, he kissed her a little deeper, a little more desperately, till he pulled away when they were both breathless.

            “Wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to do that again,” he whispered, nudging his nose against hers.

            “Me neither,” she replied, just as softly.

            There was an amused glint in his eyes when he met her gaze. “You know, while you’re recovering, it’s not just missions. No participating in”—a quick press of his lips to her own—“ _other_ ”—another to her throat—“strenuous activities either.”

            Natasha was breathing hard as she said, “I hate you.”

            Steve laughed, pressing one more kiss to her temple. “I love you.”

            Natasha couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips. “I know. I love you, too.”

-:-

            Four weeks and three days later, Natasha was fully recovered. Though she absolutely _hated_ having that much time off, especially when she had to watch everyone else go off on missions, she did as Helen instructed. She did her physical therapy. She worked out as much as her body could handle, gradually building up the strain she could put on her body. She spent time with Clint and his family when Steve was off on missions. She relaxed and recovered just as she’d been told to do. She was glad to see that the scars weren’t even that bad. The serum in Steve’s blood had done wonders for her.

            Coming home from her latest check-up with Helen she found Steve going over personal files at the table in their apartment. She slid a piece of paper across the table at him.

            “What’s this?” Steve asked, brow furrowed as he picked up and examined the piece of paper.

            Natasha tried—and failed—to keep a grin off her face. “It’s a note from Helen saying that I am officially cleared for duty.” She pulled the paper from his hands, walking around the table so she could lean in close. “And _other_ strenuous activities.”

            It took less than half a second for Steve to process her words before he was out of his chair and kissing her, hands on either side of her face as he tipped her head back. Natasha was breathless in seconds, body humming in anticipation. Steve’s mouth was everywhere—her lips, her cheeks, her neck, sucking over her pulse, every inch of him pressed against her.

           Then he went to his knees in front of her. Natasha’s lips were parted as she ran her fingers through his hair. He looked up at her reverently, eyes dark with desire but brimming with so much love. Then, slowing their pace, his hands slowly rucked up the hem of her tank-top, his skin burning against her own where he touched her. He kissed her Odessa scar first. Natasha’s heart was pounding, warmth shooting straight down her spine and then even lower. Her knees just about gave out on her when Steve kissed her new scars next, so, _so_ gently, hardly a brush of his lips over her skin. Once, twice, then three times.

           That’s how he made love to her. Slowly, thoroughly, leaving no skin untouched. And later, as she was falling asleep, tangled together with him, Natasha smiled as she felt him drape an arm over her, fingers circling her scars like they were the most beautiful thing in the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to headcanon Steve as being O blood type, but I decided to look it up, just in case. And it's the internet so of course there's [info](https://historicallyaccuratesteve.tumblr.com/post/92559080667/captainarnerica-gallifreyfieldsforever) on Steve's blood type and of course he's a universal donor. I just can't get over how much Steve was born to be Captain America.
> 
> I have another drabble just about ready to go so I will post that in a day or two! Any and all prompts are always welcome! You can also visit my [tumblr](http://hoppe2bealive.tumblr.com/) and ask/message me prompts there as well!


	16. A Reason to Love the Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised I am back! This one is focusing on Bucky and Wanda (because I read a fic and watched some vids and fell down a WinterWitch rabbit hole that I didn't even know I wanted to be in and damn you guys). So Bucky/Wanda set during Christmas time even though it's August. Not compliant with CA:CW. For my bestie (who deserves all the thanks for reading over the stuff I write). 
> 
> I head back to school in a week, but since I have down time until then, I will try very, very hard to get another SteveNat chapter up within that time frame. 
> 
> Also, I do not speak Russian, so the Russian in this chapter I put together with a combination of google translate and youtube, but if any part of it is wrong, my apologies and please let me know and I will gladly fix it!
> 
> Here goes nothing! Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Wanda in over-sized sweaters. That is all.

            “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

            Bucky turned at the sound of Wanda’s voice. She was bracing herself in between the sliding door of the balcony and its frame, her thick cream colored sweater nearly drowning her tiny form. Some of the tension that had been building in his shoulders uncoiled, and he released a breath, a tiny smile lifting up one corner of his mouth. Wanda just had that effect on him. On everyone, really. It was pretty hard to resist her.

            “I just needed some air,” Bucky replied. It was mostly true. It was Christmas Eve, and of course Tony had invited them all over for a get together, but the Avengers Tower had been starting to feel a little cramped. Even though it was just the Avengers and maybe two dozen others who worked at the facility, it was a little too much for Bucky, especially at this time of year. Winter set him on edge. The cold brought up things he would rather forget.

            “That’s why you should come inside,” Wanda said softly. It took him a moment to realize she’d read his mind. She ducked her head, long hair falling around her face. “Sorry. It’s just, your thoughts are really loud right now. I can’t help it sometimes.”

            “I know.” He smiled and reached out his human hand to her. She gratefully took it and stepped fully onto the balcony, letting the door slide shut with a hiss behind her. “It’s okay.”

            He guided her to the railing where he was standing. Snow was falling lightly, flakes landing in Wanda’s hair as she looked out over New York City, even more lit up than usual for the holidays.

            “I used to like the winter,” he told her, eyes traveling over the skyscrapers laid out in front of them. “New York is beautiful at winter, even back in the thirties. All lit up, the shops with the toys in the windows, the Christmas trees everywhere…I mean how can you not love this time of year? It was hard for Steve, because he got sick so much more during the winter, but those were some of the best times we had. I’d be over at his place almost all the time, keeping him company, taking care of him when he was sick. I’d have to sleep next to him at night so he wouldn’t get too cold.”

            Bucky smiled at the memories, and Wanda laid a hand over his flesh one. Her fingers were only halfway visible through the sleeves of her sweater, fingernails freshly painted red instead of black, standing out against the lightness of her sweater and of the snow falling around them. Wanda stayed quiet, probably still feeling a little bad about reading his thoughts and waiting for him to say something more.

            He lifted his metal hand, tucked his hair behind one ear. The cold was biting at his skin, half clearing his mind, half making him tense all over again. He could see the snow painted cliffs rushing past his vision as he fell, could still feel the scream being ripped from his throat—

            “ _Bucky._ ” Wanda’s voice pulled him back from the edge of the cliff that would send him spinning madly into his bad memories. It had been three years since D.C., since Steve had broken through his mind control, but he knew no matter how much he got back, how much control he gained over himself, all those memories, _everything_ was still there. Wanda was squeezing his hand, grounding him.

            “Now winter just reminds me of the fall,” he said by way of explanation, meeting her eyes. “It reminds me of the person I was under Hydra’s control. So yeah, you’re probably right. I should go back inside. I just…everyone’s having so much fun. I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

            He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Through the clear glass balcony door, he could still see the festivities taking place inside. The faint sound of Christmas music and laughter was audible from where he and Wanda stood by the railing. He could see Steve on the couch, Natasha with her legs thrown over his lap as she leaned back against the cushions. They were both smiling broadly, and Bucky found himself giving a little chuckle. Sam was chatting with Maria and Sharon by the tree, all of them visibly relaxed. Clint were standing by, watching as Petro entertained the kids. Tony was on probably on his fifth cup of eggnog, while a bemused Bruce stood by his side, steadying hand at the ready in case Stark decided to topple over. Everyone else was doing some variation of the same thing—drinking eggnog, laughing, talking, and generally having a good time. Bucky hadn’t wanted to disrupt it, especially when so many other holidays had been ruined by bad guys of some variation.  

            “Well, I worry about you, you know,” Wanda said, making him look back at her. Her gaze was gentle, and so, so warm, unlike the snow surrounding them. Everything about her was warm, Bucky realized. He’d thought about it before, he supposed, but it had always been almost an afterthought, something in the back of his mind that he didn’t pay much attention to. But looking at her now, all of it came to the forefront of his mind. There was something incredibly soft about her, incredibly beautiful, too. She had a quiet presence that had never caused him any alarm, despite all the power that was inside of her. A twitch of her fingers and he’d be incapacitated. Half the world was terrified of her. But not him.

            As if sensing what he was thinking, Wanda smiled at him. _God,_ she really _was_ beautiful. Bucky’s heart caught in his throat as her smile turned a little more mischievous, and she tugged on his hand. He’d seen that look enough to know she was up to something.

            “What are we doing?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow up.

            “You’ll see.” Her grin was downright wicked this time. _Dangerous._ Bucky decided he liked the danger, the power that she so clearly had but seldom showed when she wasn’t on the battlefield.

            He had no choice but to follow her as she tugged him inside, past all their friends, and told him to grab a jacket. He waited for her by the front door, watching as she came out a moment later in a leather jacket of her own, wrapping a thick gray scarf around her neck. He thought she’d be cold—she was, after all, just wearing a dress under her sweater, thick socks that went up to her thighs, and now just a simple leather jacket, but she was practically pushing him out the door before he could protest.

            Her plan, as it turned out, was to take him for a walk through Central Park. Wanda had hopped out of the cab as Bucky paid the driver, smiling, practically spinning as she took in all the trees, covered in snow and blazing with twinkle lights. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, not feeling so cold as he watched her gaze around in awe.

            “So,” Bucky grinned, grabbing her hand and twirling her around. When he spun her into his chest, her eyes lit up even more, and she gasped softly, breathless, cheeks flushed red from the cold, “what exactly are we doing here? What’s this big plan of yours?”

            There was that dangerous grin of hers again as she said, “Well, I know that you don’t like this time of year much. The winter, the cold. So I thought I’d show you everything that _I_ love about the wintertime.”

             Her features had softened, voice lowered, and Bucky found his eyes flicking down to her lips for a fraction of a second. They were still pressed together, hands intertwined against his chest. Bucky wondered if she could feel his heart beating hard in his chest.

            “Well,” he said, swallowing thickly, “lead the way, princess.”

            She shook her head a little at the nickname, but she was also trying—and failing—to keep a smile off her face. She squeezed her fingers around his, never once letting go of his hand as she stepped away and started leading him down the snowy, lit-up paths of the park.

            As they walked, Wanda did just as she promised, told him all the things she loved about the winter. The lights, _everywhere the lights_ ; the festive time of year where more often than not, you could see people doing everything they could to give a little; the feeling of being able to curl up by a fire and huddle under a million blankets after being out in the cold; sweaters. Bucky laughed when she said that, mostly because he knew she was being dead serious. Wanda _loved_ her sweaters.

            “And the thing you love most?” Bucky asked, spinning her around again in a little dance, tugging her close again.

            “In the morning, right after a big snowfall,” she whispered, as quiet as the park around them, “the kind of snow with those big fluffy flakes, the kind you don’t even hear falling from the sky. The trees look so pretty covered in it. And it’s just… it’s so still and so quiet. Peaceful. Undisturbed. I think it’s just—”

            “Beautiful,” he finished for her, barely audible.

            She nodded. “Yes.”

            Bucky licked his lips. “Could you—can…can you show me that?”

            Wanda stared at his for a moment longer. Then, without a word, she reached a hand up and touched the side of his face with just her fingertips. Bucky sucked in a breath. There was the tiniest flash of red out of the corner of his eye and suddenly he could see what Wanda was picturing, _feel_ what she was feeling. _Peace._ Absolute and utter peace. He could see the freshly fallen snow in his mind, the blanket of white over the world, soft and pure. There was no blood in the snow, no cliffs or trees and strange men towering over him. There was just peace and comfort and warmth.

            Then the vision ended. Bucky could still feel it, though, lingering. Wanda’s fingers traced his jaw, eyes watching him carefully. Bucky loved having her close to him. He loved so much about her. Over the past year, they’d grown incredibly close. They worked extremely well in the field together. They teased Steve and Nat constantly, had movie nights curled up on the couch. She was there just as much as Steve when his mind threatened to tear itself apart in the middle of the night, soothing him until his screams stopped. All his subconscious little thoughts about her had been building, growing, and maybe it had taken him this long to realize that he actually _really_ liked her, but better late than never he supposed. All he knew is that he didn’t want to lose her, or what they had. And whatever that was, all he knew was that she was there, in front of him, gazing at him like the man he was and not the monster he used to be.

            _Damn_ , he wanted to kiss her. She was inches from him. It would be so easy to just lean down and touch his lips to hers. But he didn’t. Instead he pulled her even closer to him, wrapping his arms around her as he buried his face against her neck. She smelled like lilacs and vanilla underneath the scent of the holiday candles Tony had burning all around the Tower. The fabric of her scarf tickled his nose a little bit. It was crazy how perfect she felt in his arms.

            “я тебя люблю,” he said quickly, quietly, the words muffled by her scarf, not even thinking before he spoke. And when he realized what he _had_ said, he pulled back quickly. “Wanda, I—”           

            He didn’t even know what to say. Her eyes had widened enough that Bucky knew she knew what he’d said.            

            “Wanda—” he tried again, but then her hands were cupping his face, their faces almost closer than they were before.           

            “Say it again,” she whispered.            

             This time he spoke in English, “I love you.”           

             And it didn’t matter that they hadn’t acknowledged any feelings between them until that point, it didn’t matter that saying those words could’ve gone so spectacularly wrong, because everything fell away when she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. Her lips were just as soft as the rest of her, pressing a little desperately to his like she’d been waiting to do it for a while. The thought of that made his heart kickback like a gunshot in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. When they pulled back for air, Bucky found himself smiling as Wanda ran her thumbs over the stubble on his jaw, their faces no longer just flushed just from the cold. Then she gave a little laugh, a giggle really, the most beautiful smile spreading across her face.            

            Bucky realized then that he didn’t hate the winter quite as much as before.


	17. I Love You (And Cookies Too)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to get a Steve/Nat chapter up, but I was moving in and I just started this new semester and I haven't really had time to write yet, and I had this written already, so you guys are getting another Wanda/Bucky chapter. Because I love them and I am glad to see that I'm bringing a couple of you down with me :D
> 
> Also, I've just decided that dancing is Bucky and Wanda's thing and that Bucky will literally just spin her around whenever the chance arises, so yeah.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the feedback, I love you all! Any prompts you want to see just let me know! I know I haven't been doing much of them lately, but I will get back to them I promise!
> 
> Enjoy!

            She found him in the kitchen.

            A quick glance at the clock on the microwave told Wanda that it was close to three in the morning. She hadn’t heard him get out of the bed they now shared, but it wasn’t surprising to wake up and find him gone. He still had trouble sleeping—probably would for the rest of his life—so she was growing used to being up at odd hours with him. The rest of the Avengers base was quiet as Wanda padded her way into the dimly lit kitchen, tugging on the long sleeves of the shirt she’d picked up off the floor. Bucky must have found another one to wear because he was sitting at the kitchen island in sweats and a tee, coffee cup within hands reach.

            “Bucky?” she whispered softly, calmly, so as not to startle him. “James?”

            “Hey.” He lifted his head to look at her, giving her a small smile. “It’s me.”

            She exhaled, the bubble of worry that had been building in her chest instantly shrinking. There had been times when he’d woken up from nightmares where he hadn’t been entirely himself. Black-outs were less frequent than they had been, but they still happened. He’d never hurt her, and she was in control of her powers enough to keep that from happening, but it was still scary when they all rushed in and Bucky’s eyes were wild, not recognizing them as his body tensed for an attack.

            Wanda wished she could help ease some of it, but she’d promised never to look into his head unless he gave her permission. He’d told her before, anyway, that he didn’t want her in his head, that he didn’t want to have to share that burden. _You’ve got nightmares of your own, sweetheart, you don’t need to have mine too,_ he’d told her.

            Wanda made her way over to him, standing between his legs as he turned on his stool towards her. She ran her hands over his face, through his hair. When his eyes met hers she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

            Bucky pressed his lips together. “It’s just more of the same old stuff.”

            Wanda knew him well enough to know that meant whatever had woken him was bad enough that he didn’t want her knowing about it. Instead of pushing that matter, she asked, “Did you remember anything?”

            He nodded. “I already wrote it down.”

            “That’s good,” she told him, trying to sound upbeat. He was remembering more and more, but judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t something good. She cupped his face in her hands, running her thumbs over his cheekbones as he rested his hands on her waist, pushing the hem of her— _his_ —shirt up, thumbs brushing against the waistband of her panties. She tipped his head back gently so he looked at her again. “You don’t have to tell me about it, but at least let me try and help.”

            Bucky shook his head, hands tightening on her waist, but not letting go. “No, Wanda, I told you, I don’t want you in my head—”

            “That’s not what I meant,” she amended quickly. “You don’t have to go back to sleep if you don’t want to, so let me help you take your mind off it. Distract you.”

            Bucky’s eyes twinkled mischievously, leaning in close to her so their noses bumped. “ _Oh?_ And what did you have in mind?”

            Wanda laughed softly, giving him a quick kiss before pulling back to wind her arms around his neck. “Not what you’re thinking. I had something else in mind, actually.”

            His doubtful—if not slightly disappointed—look disappeared once he saw the playful glint in her eyes and the dangerous smile on his lips.

            “It’ll be just as much fun, I promise,” Wanda told him, before dancing out of his reach.

            Bucky laughed and, half an hour later, his smile still hadn’t vanished. Not caring that it was past three in the morning, they had turned on the rest of the lights in the kitchen, put on some quiet music, and baked cookies. Mostly because Wanda had a craving and she figured what better way to take Bucky’s mind off his nightmares than to bake cookies?

            Wanda laughed, failing to be quiet as Bucky grabbed her hand and spun her around as he hummed along to the music. Of course with her in his arms, it gave him ample opportunity to reach over her with his human hand and swipe more cookie dough out of the big mixing bowl.

            “Hey!” she protested, though only half-heartedly, watching as he popped his finger in his mouth and licked the dough off. She shook her head at him, trying to fight a smile, but he’d been doing it the whole time and she had stopped pretending to be mad at him.

            Bucky only laughed some more, spinning her again in time with the music before he dipped her low, causing her to make a noise of surprise that quickly ended with her tipping her head back in a giggle. He took the chance to press a quick kiss to her neck. Then she was upright again on her feet, grinning at him as he let go so he could grab the cookie sheets out of one of the cabinets. She mixed the dough one more time, adding a few more chocolate chips and then taking some for herself.

            She was so distracted that she barely heard him put the cookie sheets down before he was stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, tucking his face into the crook of her shoulder.

            “Thank you for this,” he murmured against her neck before pressing a kiss there. His mouth lingered and Wanda’s eyes fluttered shut. He kissed her again, right behind her ear. Then the corner of her mouth. “I love you.”

            She smiled, her stomach flipping the same way it did every time he said those words. “I love you too,” she whispered right back.

            She felt him grin against her cheek. Then he spun her around, her back pressing into the counter as he kissed her on the lips. He tasted like chocolate and cookie dough. “You know,” she murmured breathlessly against his mouth as his metal fingers ran up and down her thigh, sending shivers down her skin, “these cookies aren’t going to bake themselves.”

            “Mm,” Bucky hummed, “I suppose not.”

            He kissed her one more, before pulling back and readying the baking sheets. She laid out spoonfuls of dough into neat little rows on the pans. She even let Bucky swipe out more cookie dough. This time, though, he offered it to her and she wrapped her lips around his finger, swirling her tongue to get every last bit. When he pulled back, she enjoyed the way his eyes darkened as she licked her lips and hummed satisfyingly.

            As the cookies baked, they cleaned up. Though “cleaning up” was a liberal term, since they made even more of a mess before they actually started cleaning. Bucky threw just a little bit of flour at her and, well, then half of it ended up on their clothes and in their hair and Wanda couldn’t even be mad because she was laughing, any notion of staying quiet forgotten. Bucky sung off-key into her ear as he danced with her, spinning her in the way she loved.

            That’s how the others—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Pietro, and Clint, who was there for a week to help with an upcoming mission—found them. Wanda blushed, a little embarrassed at being caught red-handed. After a comment from Steve about the state of the kitchen and the early hour, though, the others just smiled and shook their heads.

            Then the oven timer went off and Wanda just smiled and looked at the others with a grin, “Cookie, anyone?”

            Bucky took the baking sheets out with his metal hand, which would have bothered Wanda if she knew it didn’t cause him any pain. He could sense pressure with his metal arm, but couldn’t actually feel any sensations with it. Pietro swiped a cookie first, his body turning into a blur as he took three at once, not even letting them cool off. Then he dashed back to his room with three scorching, melty cookies in his hands. The others actually waited for them to cool a minute. Clint grabbed two, then nodded at Bucky, whose hand was on her waist, and gave her a wink when Bucky wasn’t looking. Wanda blushed again, but then Clint, too, was back off to bed.

            Sam, Steve, and Natasha hung around for a little longer, chatting and munching on their cookies as Wanda and Bucky started cleaning up. Wanda saw, out of the corner of her eye, Steve almost subconsciously place a hand on the small of Natasha’s back. Her friend just smiled and relaxed into his touch as they laughed with Sam. Wanda found herself smiling, knowing exactly how happy Natasha felt, because Wanda was just as happy with Bucky.

            Bucky had just tossed the last of the dishes into the soapy water they’d set up when he handed her a cookie. “Gonna try one? You made them after all.”

            “You first,” she said with a grin. Bucky shrugged and grabbed another one from the pan.

            He took a bite, making the softest noise in the back of his throat. He finished it in another two bites, licking his lips slowly as he looked at her.

            She stepped towards him, close enough that she had to tip her head back in order to look at him better. “So? How are they?”

            Bucky smiled softly at her. “Pretty much perfect.”

            Wanda smiled as he leaned down and kissed her, knowing he wasn’t just talking about the cookies.

 

           

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Remember to leave any prompts you have!


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